#where i do over 1K things and then regret it

[luveline]

Can I please get the aftermath of a fight with Hotch? Maybe they’re both stressed after a particular case and things got a little heated?

ty for requesting !! fem, 1k

You hate when Hotch shouts. 

Morose, you lay in a slouch on the couch with your hand between your face and the armrest, knuckles aching from the pressure. You’re attempting to self soothe, but your misery is worsened by your own ministrations, your thumb a useless thing on your cheek. You can’t do it like Hotch can. There’s no second meaning. 

You assume him to be in the kitchen where you left him. 

Nobody likes to fight, but you think you might be the most unwilling participant for any argument with him. He’s patient, and mellow-headed the majority of the time, so when he does get heated you can’t help thinking you’ve done something really awful.

You get the worst of worries sitting there. That you’re too much effort for him, that you don’t fit. That he’s going to realise these things and cut you loose. 

Your tears are lazy. Your shoulders shudder with your breathing, but there isn't a sound to them, just heat where they well at the corner of your eye and drip over your nose. You sniffle, pressing the back of your hand to your top lip. 

It’s cold in the living room. Immediately hotter when Hotch sits down beside you. You lift your head on instinct, surprised at his sudden presence, tears jolting down your cheeks like flash floods. When you realise it’s him and what you’re doing, you turn your face back to the armrest with held breath. 

He hesitates for a moment.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you mumble. 

He drapes himself over your contorted frame. Arm weaving under your stomach, face pressing firmly to the nape of your neck, his right hand on your shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he says, hand working into your tense shoulder blade lovingly, his thumb drawing lines. “Don’t cry.” 

“Are you still angry?” 

“No,” he says, his voice ladened with a light sincerity, “I’m not angry.” 

You feel like he’s holding back. Upset again, you attempt to find his hand where it’s cupping the space just below your chest and hold it weakly, smaller fingers on his, looking for a better forgiveness. It doesn’t come. You cry so much it starts to make you feel sick, and concern your weary partner, his frown getting deeper where it’s pressed to your neck. 

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling, honey, is that what’s upset you?” 

You just hate the idea that he could feel against you. It’s like a mixture of regret, anger, and now frustration, because you hadn’t wanted to cry at all, much less be comforted. Although, admittedly, the comforting is holding you together. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your cheek between words, “let’s sit up before you hurt your back.” 

He sits back and pulls at your arm until you're sitting upright on the sofa. Your gaze falls to your legs, your hand curled uselessly on your thigh, your tears slowly pooling and falling in succession. You scrunch your face up as another wave of misery hits you. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks, far less emotional than you, and yet not completely stony, either. 

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You bring your hand to your face to wipe at your tears and runny nose, irked, not wanting him to see you. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

Hotch leans down to kiss your shoulder, which works to calm you down. Another kiss to your neck and your horrible cloud of emotion starts to clear. 

He can’t hate you if he’s kissing you. 

“I’m sorry I made it a fight,” Hotch says, “I never would have if I thought you’d get this upset.” 

“We can’t not fight just because I might cry.” 

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t. I never want to make you cry.” 

“I hate when you–” You cut yourself off, the confession sure to make you look small. 

“What?” he prompts gently.

“I hate when you yell because– because you never do.” 

He’d only raised his voice for a few words, and it hadn’t been to your discredit, he’d been telling you to leave it alone. Perhaps if he’d been insulting you it would make sense for you to cry this much, but yelling is part of any argument. You can’t work out why it’s affected you. 

“I feel so stupid,” you confess. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, wrapping his arm behind your back to pull you flush to his side, “I don’t know how it got so out of hand. You’re never stupid, I’m just stubborn. I shouldn’t shout.” 

You twist to be facing him. He frowns at your wet cheeks. 

“Do you want to kiss and make up?” you ask tentatively. 

Hotch doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh at your question —he can tell you’re being serious. “Can we?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

He rubs a loving line into the side of your face, and every tight string in you is cut. You kiss him quickly, worried it’ll be a bad one, but find yourself encouraged for a longer one by his hand, your eyes squeezed closed in stress relaxing the longer it goes on. He’s gentle with you, his lips parting atop yours. 

He pulls away. You hide your face in the curve of his neck. 

“Can you forgive me for being cruel?” he asks quietly. 

“You’re not cruel, Aaron. I hate being on a different side from you, that’s all.” 

His first name makes all the difference to him. He sneaks a couple of kisses into your temple and begins to relax as you have, two sad lumps on the couch who only want the comfort of the other. 

You rub loving lines up and down his side, finally feeling better as he breathes his own sigh of relief. 

[parfaitblogs]

bad idea right? ❀ s. reid x reader

in which hooking up with your ex is probably not a good idea... right?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/smut (18+ mdni) tags: porn with plot. reader's mentioned wearing a dress. fingering. kind of fade to black p in v. i think im incapable of writing no d/s dynamics so soft dom!spencer my beloved. i don't mention protection but he wrapped it just trust me guys. really awful decisions are made.  word count: 3.9k a/n: i know i KNOW i said im writing fluffy smut but i simply cannot help myself... anyways this has been in the works for far too long (months...) but i have a lot of ideas for this dynamic/pairing so if we want more pls tell me 💗💘💕💕💗 i will do it!!! maybe im already doing it!!!!!💗💘💗💘💓don't fuck ur exes and thank u again for 1k ily

"Hey."

There was a beat. Then another. By the third beat your heart had started stuttering in your chest and your adrenaline-induced activities had caught up to your brain. You were slowly sinking into yourself under his gaze, that probably wasn't scrutinising, but definitely felt that way. Regret pooling in your stomach because yes, this was an absolutely awful idea, and he had clocked it within the twenty minutes it took for you to get here after his last text. 

His last text that did technically say you shouldn't come over, but if you did he wouldn't leave you stranded out in the hall. Such a gentleman, you had thought.

"I said you shouldn't come," he chastised, and your legs wobbled beneath the weight of your regret. 

"You also said I could—"

"—As a courtesy," his voice was firmer than you remembered him ever being, and your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest at the sound of it. 

"Well don't add courtesy messages if you don't want me to take them seriously," you retorted, and your arms crossed over your chest. 

He was silent for a few moments, gears turning behind his eyes, deciding if he should send you home or let you in. Then, he was stepping back, and gesturing for you to come inside — and you were.

Admittedly, six months was a long time. Being here at all is risky, and there was that fear of there being a girl sitting curled up on his couch, watching an episode of something Spencer had bribed her to watch. And maybe if you were any more sane, you would not be carefully analysing every inch of his apartment. Searching for — and expecting there to be — someone residing in spaces you had once found comfort in. 

But; no one. Then you decided that thought was stupid, because Spencer Reid was not (stupid), and he wouldn't have asked you to come to his apartment if there was a girl there. 

"Why are you dressed up?" he asked you, eyeing the dress you had on, even as he brushed past you to head into his kitchen. 

"Had a party," you replied, clasping your hands behind your back, watching him walk around his apartment with so much ease. Maybe this was only awkward for you.

"Is that why you messaged me?"

"No. No. I didn't drink," you quickly said, shaking your head, immediately clocking where his own thoughts had wandered off to. 

He nodded his head, leaning against his kitchen counter, rubbing his palms together as he studied the marble countertop, seemingly needing to find his words. "Then why did you?"

Your lips parted, silence settling between you two for a few moments longer, unsure if your internal turmoil from the night you had been having should be something for his ears or not. 

You decided it was. "Everyone's in relationships. And all their partner's were there with them at the party."

"And you were alone."

"Yeah."

He slowly nodded his head, his gaze settling on you again. "You were lonely."

Your shoulders shrugged, your own eyes dropping to the floor as embarrassment crept up your spine uncomfortably. "I missed you."

"Don't."

"What? Miss you?" 

"Yes," he said, voice strained enough for your stomach to flip. "That isn't fair."

"I know."

"You're the one who ended things."

"I know."

He was silent then, his hands dragging down his face, pausing to dig the pads of his index fingers into his eye sockets. He sighed, his arms dropping by his side heavily, eyes returning to you. Again. 

"You can't do this," he grew firmer, the sudden tone of voice causing an uncomfortable dull ache to form in your chest. 

"Do what?" you asked, quietly. 

"Come see me every time you feel lonely."

"I don't come see you every time I feel lonely."

He bore holes into your face, eyes meticulously committing features to memory, before he straightened his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. "Don't make this a habit."

"It won't," you said, quickly, a promise you both knew you couldn't make truthfully.

Hesitantly, he nodded his head towards his couch, and despite the blaring alarm in your brain telling you to just go home and forget about it, your feet carried you over to it. Sinking into the plush of black leather you had sat so many times before, the fabric cold against your legs.

His face softened involuntarily, staring at you, heart achingly vulnerable and small, tucked into the corner of his couch. It almost made it easy to forget the past six months and everything leading up to the breakup. Almost. 

He stayed standing, as a power move or because he was simply awkward, you didn't know anymore. The man you were currently sharing air with did not seem the same as he had half a year prior. That hurt. 

Sitting up straighter, you clasped your hands in your lap, fixating your gaze on the coffee table in front of you. "I'm sorry."

He didn't respond for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your sudden apology. Then, feet shuffling that indicated he was walking away from the couch, and your heart sank to your stomach. 

"For what?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he had intended. 

Your breath hitched. "Breaking up with you, I guess."

Too many memories filled your mind from what had happened, and you felt the guilt you had suppressed for months crawl its way back up your spine. 

"And you think sorry can make it all okay?" his voice had a hint of bitterness in it, and you couldn't even blame him for it. 

"No. Obviously not," you said, shifting on the couch to turn your head to look at him, fixating on him as he attempted to busy himself with rearranging the books on his desk. "Can you come here, please?"

His movements paused, and he lifted his gaze to you. There was a silent battle between your eyes, before you inevitably won, and he nodded, letting go of the hardback book he was moving and instead walking over to you on the couch. 

"I feel awful. For the way I left," you told him when he found residence on the other end of the couch, the distance technically small, but to you, seemingly massive. 

"You didn't seem upset when you left."

"I was. Please believe me."

He was no longer looking at you, but you were at him, and there was a disapproving expression on his face that told you he simply didn't, despite the quiet, "Okay," that fell from his lips. 

Unsure of what else to say, you let the silence encase you, instead flickering your eyes around the apartment, attempting to pick out minuscule changes he had made since you'd moved out. Nothing insane jumped out to you, other than the lack of your presence. There no longer being a collection of your own books on his bookshelf, brightly coloured trinkets not cluttering the kitchen countertop anymore. Which was fine. Even the items you had left here unknowingly, you hadn't expected to still be residing in his apartment. 

When your gaze settled back on him, you found him staring at you already. Your lips pulled into a small frown, while his parted, breath catching as if about to say something, then stopping. 

"You look pretty," he settled on telling you. And if you were any more stable, maybe your heart wouldn't have flipped in your chest. 

"Thank you," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn slightly. 

Despite the fluster such a simple compliment brought you, you couldn't look away. And it seemed neither could he. Staring at each other for ticking minutes, until you were finally breaking the brick wall of tension and standing up. 

"I shouldn't have come," you told him. "You were right."

"I should agree with you," he replied, watching your every movement. Even as you halted your beeline towards his door, confusion creeping up your spine. He had noticed it. 

You turned back to him. "But you don't."

"No. I don't," he agreed. "We ended abruptly."

"I left."

"Yeah."

It had been a huge misunderstanding, in the grand scheme of it all. A misunderstanding you had logically worked out after a week of dwelling on it all, but then had far too much pride to reach out to him again. Instead, allowing the remnants of your relationship to rot away in the back of your mind, never to be touched again. 

Until you were violently reminded just how much you had thrown away that night in a room full of happy people. 

Letting your shoulders soften, you trudged back over to him, standing rather awkwardly in front of him on the couch. Not that it felt awkward. You decided awkwardness was impossible when Spencer Reid stared at you like you were the sun materialised in his living room — the same way he had when you were still with him. And after six months of not seeing him, and an entire awkward conversation later, you finally wondered if anything had actually changed at all.

How you felt about him certainly hadn't. Eyes fixated on him like he was going to disappear if you even twitched, and you had the fleeting thought of kissing him. Which then turned into a recurring thought, until you were actively fighting the thought because this was not your boyfriend and kissing him was quite possibly the worst thing you could ever do. 

But God, did you want to. 

"I resented you for a long time."

You ignored the guilt eating away at your heart, and the hurt that settled in your stomach. You deserved his resent. 

"You don't anymore?" you asked, voice choked up from the thick ball of a sob caught in your throat. 

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

You nodded your own head wordlessly. "That's fair."

He exhaled sharply, and his fingers pressed into the inner corners of his eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

"So you've said."

"No, I mean—" he cut himself off, lifting his gaze back to you. "I have things I want to do, that I will regret."

"With me?" You already knew the answer. 

"Yes," he confirmed anyways. "And we shouldn't."

"We definitely shouldn't," you agreed. 

He stood, dropping his hands by his sides, and you feared for a moment he was going to kick you out, just for the sake of his own sanity. Maybe it would be better for the both of you if he did that. 

He didn't. 

Instead, you learned quite quickly that he was battling the same internal conflict you were. And maybe he was attempting to ignore it; same as you. Maybe he had lost that war and that was why he was acting on those terrifying impulses. 

"I want to kiss you."

You were mostly shocked the words hadn't come from you. But by the time you had registered that fact, you had also registered you were nodding in agreement, followed by your consent, and he then was kissing you. 

And it was like no time had passed at all. 

His lips on your own were as desperate as you remember — even in the quieter mornings he would kiss you like you'd disintegrate beneath him, never to be seen again. And, with matching his desperation, you found his knees buckling as they hit the edge of the couch, and he was coaxing you down onto it with gentle hands on your hips. 

Abiding his physical request, your knees dug into the cushions, on either side of his body, and he was stuttering through breaths, lips detaching from your own. Your protests about it died on your tongue quickly as he kissed down your jaw and over the skin of your neck — delicately, for he had always been keenly aware of how sensitive the vessels and nerves in your neck were. 

"You definitely haven't drank tonight?" he mumbled against your skin once his lips had reached the top edge of your dress.

"No," you confirmed with a shake of your head, and he let out what seemed like a sigh of relief — you didn't know if feeding into that idea was good for you mentally or not. 

His fingers trailed up the length of your spine, your back arching on impulse as goosebumps arose on your skin. Tender hands found the thin straps of your dress, and his head lifted to look at you again. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, content flooding over you as he did as he had intended, and you were slipping your arms out of the straps of your dress.

"This is such a bad idea," he mumbled, and all you could do was hum in agreement, for he was still pressing kisses along your skin down past your collarbone. 

Maybe it was the lingering thought that you shouldn't be doing this that egged you on. The knowledge that your friends would probably consider a violent end for you (and him) once they found out. That this was bad, and you were going to regret it the second it was over. 

His hands dropped back to your hips, and you searched for his lips again with your own, kissing him once more. Your dress bunched at your waist with help from Spencer, and hands that grappled at your ass tugged you impossibly closer. 

"Are you actually going to hookup with me on your couch?" you murmured against his lips. 

"Where would you prefer us to be?" he asked you, tilting his head back so he could see you once more. 

"Your bed."

If he disagreed with your suggestion, he hid it behind a nod, tapping your thighs so you could climb off of him. Which, you did, leading him towards his own bedroom, similarly to all the ways you had done it before. He tried not to dwell on that. 

"Have you been with anyone since we broke up?" 

Your voice was filled with an insecurity you wished to burn as you climbed onto the bed. The sheets so familiar you felt like crying. 

"Do you really want the answer to that question?" he asked, positioning himself over you, fingers placed at your waist.

"No," you decided, a response he knew you'd reply with. "But I guess that is an answer within itself."

"I guess," he agreed, head ducking back down to kiss over your shoulders and collarbones. 

"Were they good?"

"I'm not answering that."

"So they were."

He said your name, chidingly, nipping at your skin. "If you want to do this, I need your focus to be here. Not the other people I've had sex with."

"Okay. Sorry."

He only hummed as a response, the hand on your waist dropping past your hips, gently parting your legs and running his fingers up the skin of your inner thigh. 

Everything he did felt hauntingly familiar, and easy. As if the past six months had been nothing more than a bad dream, and the man who was above you, pulling your underwear down your legs and hiking your dress up to your waist, had done this twice in the past week already. 

You'd resonate in that fantasy for as long as you could. 

You squirmed as he brushed a finger through your folds, and he smiled, his mind no doubt reminding him of all the times you had done that before.

"Take your time," you muttered, bitterly, as he repeated the gentle ministration a few more times. 

"I will," he bit back, though the amusement in his eyes as he met your gaze again told you he was similarly as impatient. "I'm just figuring out what makes you feel good."

"You've forgotten?"

"No," he shook his head, the word flying off his tongue as he circled your clit with his finger, with a frustrating expertise. "I'm reminding myself."

"I like being kissed."

He laughed, quietly. Your heart warmed in your chest, while his lips brushed delicately against yours once more. "Thank you for the reminder."

"Of course," you said, and he was then swallowing a moan as he kissed you, pushing a finger into you at the same time. 

His eyebrows knitted together, something you only make out because his lips have tugged into a frown and you were pulling back to peer at him — only to be coaxed back into a kiss by his searching lips. You decided not to ask why he's confused. Or concerned. Or whatever the expression he was making was for. 

"Spencer," you breathed out when he had kept his finger still for too long (in your opinion), and he's quick to mumble an apology and start thrusting his finger. 

Whether he was more conscious of the sounds you were making, or simply just wanted to kiss you, you didn't know. But his lips stayed connected to yours as he fingered you in practiced motions, that you were focussing so closely on. Perhaps too closely, for he was nipping your lower lip when you had stopped actively kissing him back. 

"Is your distraction an indicator of something good? Or do I need to work harder?" he asked you, lifting his head to watch you squirm as he added another finger. 

"No, it's something good. It feels good," you reassured him.

The heel of his palm grazed over your clit, and you whined. So, he did it again. You moaned louder. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you moaned at how overwhelming it all was. He might have slept with more people in between, but you certainly hadn't, and it was becoming all too much, all too quick. 

You were acutely aware of the movement of his own hips on the bed beside you, your lips tugging up in amusement at the desperation he was displaying. Comforted by the fact that you were not alone. 

A particular brush of his fingers upon that spot inside of you cut off your thoughts, and you gasped, jerking your head away. At that, he did it again. And again.

"Spencer—Spencer," you whimpered, brokenly, grappling for any semblance of control over yourself. 

"Mm?"

"I'm gonna come," you told him. An honest mistake, because he was now pulling his fingers out of you, despite your quick protests. "No—what the fuck?"

"Shh," he said through a smile, kissing you to quieten your loud objections. "I want to come with you. Is that okay, honey?"

Oh.

Overwhelmed with a sudden shyness, you nodded your head, cheeks warming, and any opposing words dying on your tongue. "Yes. It is."

In an all too quick motion, he went from fully clothed above you, to fully naked and beside you, you having discarded of your own dress at the same time. Absentmindedly, because you were a little too focused on  what it was you were actually doing, brain running rampant about how awful of an idea it was. 

But then he was shifting your legs open, hand running up and down the skin of your thighs as he positioned himself at your entrance, and you were forgetting all about it. 

In a slow, languorous thrust, he pushed himself inside of you, a low hiss leaving his lips as he stilled, your own eyes fluttering shut, hands balling into fists. 

"This, I forgot," he breathed out, and you felt his hair tickle your shoulder as he rested his head against it. 

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Not for touch. Not like this," he explained, voice strained. "Sorry, sweet girl. Give me a minute."

The pet name had your heart fluttering, and you felt tears sting your vision as the violent reminder that this will never happen again flashed in your mind. You willed that thought away, trying to focus on the feeling of him inside of you, and how good it was in the moment. 

"It's been like twenty," you grumbled, pushing your hips back against his, and a choked laugh left his lips. 

"Seconds, maybe," he answered, a hand dropping to your hips. To still them or ground himself, you didn't know. "Exercise patience, please."

"Forgive me, but you did just stop me from coming."

He bit your shoulder. "Exercise manners too, while you're at it."

At that, you inhaled, before saying in an awfully sweet voice, "Can you please fuck me, Spencer?"

"Was that so hard?"

"Fuck off."

"After I make you come, I will," he answered, tone of voice unbearably innocent. 

A stark contrast to the drag of his hips out of you, and the sharp thrust back in (just to punctuate his point, of course). At its unexpectedness, you gasped, voice cracking and heart somersaulting. 

Every thrust into you was a constant reminder of what you had given up. What you had lost. A string of moans from you so achingly familiar to his ears, and heavy breaths from him making you want to never let this end. 

He was everything, and perhaps your hands were an inch too small to hold all of him. 

As quickly as it had all began, it was over, and you were left in the centre of his mattress, staring up at a ceiling you had intricately dissected with your eyes many times before. 

He had disappeared to his bathroom, assumedly to get clothes for himself, and hopefully something for you and your walk of shame you were no doubt doing in less than thirty minutes time. 

There was a growing sick feeling in your stomach you could at least identify to be anxiety, paired with the gross feeling of regret for your actions. You were never meant to see him again, despite what your heart had wanted. You forced yourself to be an adult about this, to cut him off. Your friends had pathetically changed his contact name to don't answer on a night out for their own personalised reminder of what talking to him would ensue. Why didn't you fucking listen?

He returned from the bathroom, a pile of clothes you had forgotten you'd ever even left here in his hands. You wiped the sides of your face with the backs of your hands, fluttering your eyelids to cut off anymore tears, sitting up.

"You should probably go," he said. If there was anything left of your heart to shatter, he just did.

"You're kicking me out so soon?" you asked him, failing at keeping your tone of voice light. When he hesitated in a response, you discovered why you no longer let your heart speak for you. You cracked a small smile, shook your head, and muttered, "Kidding." 

He didn't need to know you were subconsciously begging him to let you stay.

You stood, albeit on shaking legs, and took the clothes he was offering you. Pulling them on under such a watchful gaze was almost embarrassing, even as he busied himself with stripping the sheets from his bed to avert his attention. He was still keeping note of your presence in his space. 

"I—um, bye, Spencer," you stammered, throat closing up with every passing minute. 

He looked back at you. "I'll see you out."

"No," you were quick to deny him. "It's okay, I know where the door is. I'll see you around. Maybe. Probably not." Stop talking.

"Yeah. Maybe," he agreed with no real sincerity. "Goodbye."

"Bye," you said, again, hesitating to leave behind the remnants of an even more destroyed relationship. 

Though, you had to.

And as you left, you discovered that yes. Everything between you two had changed.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sweat

Declan O'Hara x f!reader

(little mention of Tag x Rupert)

~1k words, no real warnings - the 'c' word is used once.

While I wait for my man Jack Lowden to return from war (filming season 6 of Slow Horses), I thought I'd dip my little toe into a very short Declan O'Hara one-shot 😬

If you're reading The Escape Artist, fear not, the final TWO chapters are coming this week! Yes, of course I do have other prompts to get on with, but I was in spin class last night, and every time my instructor shouted, "Ride, ride, ride" all I saw was Declan 😅 The moustache would make a wonderful handle as well 🤭

Another bead of sweat drips from your forehead onto the towel.

“Ride, ride, ride, ride, don't stop ladies,” the instructor, an Adonis of a man, coaches you through the pumping music. Next to you, Taggie blows a stray curl out of her face.

“This is torture,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

She isn't wrong.

The newly installed ‘Bicycle Hub’ has raised eyebrows at the local leisure centre, with few expected to actually attend.

The Hub overlooks the squash courts, not that you'd know.

They were so filled with cigarette smoke you could hardly see a thing at all.

From the front row of bikes, you had a prime view looking down.

Usually older gentlemen with portly stomachs and red wine noses who were one play away from a heart attack.

“Oh look, it's daddy.” Taggie peers down. “And Rupert.”

Even through the glowing pink caused by the exercise class you can see her blush.

The two men look up and catch you watching them.

A real shame you couldn't lip read.

Not that they'd be saying anything about Tag, Rupert wouldn't dare in front of Declan.

You were fair game though.

Taggie waves but you don't dare break your rhythm on the bike for fear you'd fall right off.

“Concentrate, ladies,” Adonis warns. “Left, right, left, left, right, right. Stay with the beat, ride, ride, ride.”

You tear your eyes away from the squash court and look back at your bike, regretting it instantly.

“My legs are killing me,” you mutter, feeling your thighs burn.

You go back to looking at the squash game Declan and Rupert are playing, it looks more like they're trying to hit each other with the ball rather than play to the rules.

Each of them roaring with laughter whenever they make contact.

“I'm sure that's not how you're supposed to play,” Taggie grumbles.

“Could be worse, they could be just hitting each other with the racket,” you suggest.

Your breath comes in short gasps now, your stamina rapidly declining.

The rhythmic sounds of the squash ball combine with the squeak of running shoes, the beat of the music, and the hum of the fixed wheels of the bike.

A cacophony of sounds.

You find yourself watching their game more intently, it powers you through the changes in resistance on the bike.

You tilt your head to brush your earlobe against your shoulder and catch another drip of sweat.

As you do so, another works its way down the side of your neck and down into your cleavage.

“And down, catch your breath. Next, we're going to run,” Adonis tells the class.

You let your legs slow down a little and take the opportunity to run the towel over your face and take a long drink of water.

Your chest heaves.

As you put your water bottle back on the machine, you automatically look again at the squash court, this time catching Declan watching you.

You notice the quick lift of his eyebrow as he stares.

He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and then smiles.

“OK ladies, stand up -”

“On the bike?”

“Yes, madame, it's time to run.”

“I don't understand, I'll fall off!” You think it's Valerie Jones who's protesting, but you've yet to look away from Declan.

Holding his gaze, you do as Adonis asks and you stand up, straightening your legs on the pedals.

Even from this distance you can tell where he's looking.

Your tight lycra crop top pulls your breasts together and his eyes are drawn like a magnet.

When you lean forward on the bike, he wipes his hand over his mouth.

The next track starts building in momentum and so do you, each rotation of the wheels making you bounce a little more vigorously.

Neither of you has looked away yet, goodness knows where Rupert has gone.

Taggie is mercifully distracted, a tight frown of concentration on her face.

There's a wicked glint in Declan's eye and you tilt your head to the side, a silent question.

Whatever he's about to do in response, he doesn't.

Rupert is back, distracting him, talking to him.

He looks away at last, but you can tell it's under duress.

“Thank you ladies, great class for today!” Adonis is off the bike and leading his own round of applause.

You roll your eyes at Taggie and grimace.

“He's single! So I've heard,” she tells you with a giggle.

“No thanks, his biceps are huge! He'd suffocate me!”

You leave the class very much in need of a shower and as you make your way down to the changing rooms, you pass the squash courts.

Taggie's looking out for Rupert, you can tell.

Desperate for a moment alone with him.

You spot him first, by the water fountain, and nudge her in his direction.

His face lights up at the sight of her.

"Looks like you ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he grins slyly.

You leave them to talk, and open the glass door to the court.

Taggie and Rupert are in full view of most of the leisure centre so he only has his words to charm with.

Inside the court, Declan has been watching you through the glass.

“Water?” You offer, holding out your bottle.

“Prefer whiskey,” he grins.

“So do I.”

“I'd also prefer an exercise that'll leave us both breathless," he says quietly.

There's a line you're about to cross but neither of you seems to care.

“So do I.” You repeat equally quietly.

“Sure I can find a much more comfortable seat for you as well.”

The lilt of his accent runs over your body.

He looks through the door but Taggie and Rupert are out of sight, for once, he doesn't seem to care.

He takes a step towards you, as if he's about to whisper in your ear.

Instead, he drags his tongue from your throat to your earlobe.

“You taste delicious.”

Your power of speech is non-existent.

Your hands shake as the adrenaline from the class and from his proximity mingle together.

He kisses your temple, your hairline damp with sweat.

“I think it's time to put a stop to this little game, don't you?” he murmurs.

You can only nod as your body trembles and your cunt clenches.

And then you hear Rupert in the atrium outside.

Declan takes a measured step away from you as Taggie arrives, though neither of you can stop staring.

“Ugh, let's go, I feel disgusting,” she pulls a face. Rupert clearly thinks quite the opposite.

“Yes, let's. Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” You smile brightly.

“I certainly am,” Declan responds, the low rumble of his laughter following you from the court.

You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pile into the car to leave.

You can still feel the weight of his body on yours as you climb into bed that night.

[l4ndonorizz]

q&a stream gets personal / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: odesza - bloom

summary: a playful Q&A stream takes a surprising turn when hidden feelings are revealed

wc: 1k

The camera flicked on, and Lando grinned widely as he adjusted the mic. “Alright, welcome back, everyone! Today’s stream is going to be a little different, but it should be fun. We’re doing a Q&A, but with a twist.”

You smiled, sitting next to him, already feeling the excitement building. “We’ve each prepared questions for the other,” you explained, waving your phone in front of the camera. “No holds barred.”

Lando laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I’m already regretting agreeing to this.”

The chat was buzzing with excitement, full of messages about how chaotic this was going to get. The fans had been asking for a Q&A for a while, and you and Lando decided to take it up a notch by asking each other anything—no warnings.

“Okay,” you said, glancing at your list. “I’ll start with something light. Lando, what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you on stream?”

Lando groaned, shaking his head as the memory resurfaced. “Oh, come on! We’re really starting with that?”

You grinned. “Yep. Spill.”

He sighed, giving in. “Alright, during a charity stream, I was mid-race, everything was going well, and I decided to take a drink of water. But I completely missed my mouth and ended up pouring water all over myself and my setup. It was a mess.”

You burst out laughing. “How do you even miss your mouth?”

“Talent,” Lando replied dryly, making the chat explode with laughing emojis. “It was bad. I had to stop the stream to clean up the disaster.”

Shaking your head, you scrolled through your next question. “Okay, your turn.”

Lando scrolled through his phone, his eyes lighting up as he found a good one. “Alright, if you had to get a tattoo of my face somewhere, where would it be?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, easy. On the bottom of my foot, so no one ever sees it.”

Lando gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wow, okay. I’m hurt. I thought you’d want my face somewhere more… visible.”

“I love you, but not that much,” you teased, earning more laughter from the chat.

Lando leaned closer to the camera. “Can you believe this? I thought we had something special.”

“You wish,” you replied with a smirk.

The teasing continued as you both threw more light-hearted questions at each other.

“Okay, my turn,” you said, scanning your list. “What’s one of your worst habits?”

Lando didn’t hesitate. “That’s easy. Leaving my shoes everywhere. I know it drives you crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not just me. You trip over your own shoes sometimes.”

“Fair point,” Lando chuckled. “But hey, I’m working on it.”

“Sure, you are,” you teased.

The chat was loving the playful banter, with fans sending heart emojis and laughing at your back-and-forth. Lando glanced at his phone again, his smile widening.

“If you had to survive on a desert island with me, what role do you think I’d play?”

You snorted. “The one who makes things worse. You’d try to build a racing simulator out of coconuts or something.”

The chat exploded with laughter, and Lando pretended to be offended. “I’m telling you, that would be an amazing simulator.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, grinning. “Meanwhile, I’d be building an actual shelter.”

Lando laughed. “Okay, fair. I’d handle the coconuts.”

The questions continued, gradually becoming more personal. But when Lando scrolled to his last question, the mood shifted slightly.

“Alright,” Lando said, his tone softening. “Here’s one that’s a bit more serious. What’s the one thing in life that you regret the most?”

You froze for a second, not expecting such a heavy question. The chat slowed down, realizing the conversation was about to take a deeper turn.

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment. “I guess… I regret not being good at expressing how I feel. I tend to hold back, and I regret that sometimes.”

Lando’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

You took a deep breath, glancing at the camera before looking back at Lando. The chat was buzzing, but all the playful emojis were gone. It was just an audience waiting to see where this would go.

“I’ve never been good at telling people what I really feel. I keep things to myself because I’m scared of what might happen if I put it all out there.”

Lando leaned in closer, his playful demeanor fading. “What are you scared of?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment. The chat, the stream, everything else disappeared as you stared at Lando, realizing this was the moment you’d been avoiding.

“I’m scared of ruining things,” you said softly. “Of saying something that could change everything.”

Lando’s expression softened. “What could you say that would ruin things?”

Your heart raced. You knew what you had to say, but once you said it, there was no going back.

“I… I have feelings for you,” you finally admitted, your voice shaky but firm. “And I’ve had them for a while.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard, but his face softened even more. “You… have feelings for me?”

You nodded, feeling both relieved and terrified. “Yeah. I didn’t want to mess up our friendship.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The chat had slowed to a crawl. Finally, Lando broke the silence, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ve had feelings for you too,” he confessed. “I just didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

You stared at him, shocked. “You do?”

Lando nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah. I thought about telling you, but I didn’t want to risk losing what we have.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “Guess we’re both pretty bad at this.”

Lando chuckled, reaching over to gently take your hand. “Yeah, but maybe we don’t have to be anymore.”

Your heart soared at his words, and before you could say anything, Lando leaned in, his eyes locking with yours. The world slowed as his lips brushed against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

The chat exploded with heart emojis, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the feeling of Lando’s lips against yours.

When you pulled away, both of you were smiling.

“Well,” Lando said, grinning at the camera, “I guess we just made this stream a lot more interesting.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

The chat continued to explode, but for now, you were just happy to be here, with Lando, knowing that you’d finally said what needed to be said.

[stvrrlau]

𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.ᐟ sweet!soft!heeseung⋆anxious!fem!reader

𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ fluff fluff fluff, very fluffy hehe

𝘴𝘵𝘷𝘳𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.ᐟ hello guys (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ this is my first ever time on tumblr!!!! so still trying to figure things out lolololol if u enjoy this pls check out my wattpad i would love 2 reach 1k reads!!! >< i also have an ao3 acc where i may post some drabbles or any scraps i dont wanna post here ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ wrd count۶ৎ 1 640

YN

i sighed, looking through the window, the scenery blazing past at high speeds, enough to make someone sick. the weather wasn’t warm but it wasn’t cool either, the type of weather you would expect on an early morning in april.

i looked back down at the book i was holding, the words beginning to blur together after staring at it for an hour. the train taking a lot longer than i expected and the eerie quiet didn’t help soothe my nerves.

jake said the train would only take an hour and twenty minutes.

i quickly shoved my book back into my bag and clutched it, biting my lip. staring out the window didn’t help calm my nerves as it only served as a reminder that i may have gotten on the wrong train.

i should’ve asked someone. i should’ve double-checked. i should’ve—

breathe.

my heart beat a little too fast for how quiet everything was. the faint hum of the train tracks rattling echoed through the almost empty compartment—like it could lull someone to sleep.

i stared down at the ground wishing none of this was real. maybe i’m imagining all of it. maybe if i shut my eyes and think hard enough i’ll wake up in my bed, surrounded by warm sheets.

so i did.

i shut my eyes and wished none of this was real. i wished and wished and wished before opening my eyes.

sadly, i was still where i was before, two minutes earlier. but as i continued to burn holes in the ground, i noticed another pair of shoes next to me.

immediately, i sat up and felt my face burn from pure embarrassment. i wondered how long he could've been sat there, probably long enough to notice i was a weird girl who happened to like floors a bit too much.

i snuck a glance at the person beside me and immediately regretted not taking a longer glance.

he was gorgeous.

the sun shone through the window, casting a soft glow over his delicate features. his long lashes caught the sun just like my breath that was caught in my throat. his nose was as if he was carved by a greek god, his skin a milky white, his cheeks tinted a rosy red, as if he had run the last two blocks to reach the train station, his lips were smooth and the perfect shade of pink.

he looked just like a warm summer’s evening; peaceful, poetic, perfect.

“are you alright?”

i nearly jumped out of my seat when he spoke. he was speaking. speaking to me! what did i do to deserve this moment?

i cleared my throat awkwardly before speaking, “i’m fine, just a little worried..” i answered with a small smile, hoping he didn’t find me weird enough to get off at the next stop and report me for—for something.

at this, the stranger smiled.

i wish i could have taken a picture because in that moment, i could’ve sworn i saw an angel.

“really? why are you worried? is it something i can help with?” he asked, his tone soft and considerate, like he actually wanted to help.

“ah—it’s sort of stupid really.” i said bashfully, but when the stranger didn’t interrupt or turn away i took it as a sign to continue, “i’ve been on this train for an hour and my friend told me it should only take an hour and twenty minutes but his city name still hasn’t come up and i’m really worried i got on the wrong train and i’ve been heading the wrong way for an hour and then i’ll disappoint him or—”

i quickly stopped myself and took a deep breath, feeling my face heat up from embarrassment again.

calm down before scare away this beautiful and sweet stranger.

“s-sorry about that. i’m just worried.”

the stranger smiled again, but this time his smile was warmer. more thoughtful. like he cared.

“don’t panic, i’m sure that even if you were going the wrong way, which i’m sure you’re not, your friend still wouldn’t be mad at you. where are you going, maybe i can help.” he reassured me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

his touch instantly calmed me down and i felt as if i was about to pass away. god, why was i such a loser?

“szentes.”

at my answer his eyes lit up.

“me too! see? i knew you weren’t going the wrong way.” he smiled, “the only explanation i can think of for your friend giving you the wrong time is that he checked the wrong station.”

“ah.” i nodded.

now i sounded even stupider. i should’ve known jake can’t do directions for shit.

“he must’ve calculated it from my station.” he said, more to himself, to confirm his suggestion, “but at least we now know you aren’t going the wrong way. we’re both going the same way.” he grinned.

“i guess we are.” i smiled.

inside, i was exploding. no way we were both headed to the same city! what are the chances? maybe i have a chance to get to know him..

i looked down, hoping something would come into my brain to spark a conversation when i noticed the flowers in his hands.

wait. flowers. fuck.

they were probably for his girlfriend. i mean—no way this guy is single.

“so i see you have flowers—are they for your girlfriend?” i asked, my tone friendly, though deep down i was praying, hoping, wishing he didn’t.

then again the chances of a person like him being single is like finding a needle in a haystack.

when i asked him that question, his eyes went wide, like i was really asking if he had a girlfriend.

he stared at me for a moment, wide eyed, before laughing.

“not for my girlfriend that doesn’t exist, no.” he grinned, “they’re for my mother. celebrating.”

when those words fell from his mouth i nearly let out a sigh of relief. he doesn’t have a girlfriend! do i actually have a chance?

“and you?”

i looked up at the stranger again, just to be met with those warm brown eyes that looked like honey.

“hm?”

“do you have a boyfriend? is the friend you’re visiting actually a friend or your secret boyfriend?” he teased, his tone playful. but something else in his tone caught my attention. was he—jealous?

nah. no way. no way a person like him would be interested in a person like me.

“ew, no way! that would be like dating my brother. a really annoying one.” i said, disgusted at the thought of dating jake.

he laughed. so did i. it was silent.

but it wasn’t the type of silence you felt you could suffocate in—no. it was a comfortable silence. a silence i didn’t mind having.

so as the silence continued, i turned my attention to the window, now a sweet reminder that if the stranger hadn’t gotten on this train, and sat next to me, i would still be in a panicked state. i should thank the stranger.

wait. i still keep referring to him as “stranger”. i should ask for his name.

just as i was about to turn around and ask for his name, i felt something rest on my shoulder.

no.

someone.

i turned my head ever so slightly, just to be met with the prettiest sight before me.

the stranger, whose name i still did not know, was now resting his head on my shoulder, fast asleep.

it would be rude to wake him, but then again, i don’t know if my heart would be able to take it.

the weight on my shoulder was comforting, like having a cat fall asleep in your lap after a tiring day, or the heavy weight of a good book in your hands.

all i could do was appreciate the sight before me.

his calm and soft breathing that tickled my arm, the way his chest rose and fell when he took a deep breath, the way his hands still held onto the flowers, not wanting to drop a single one, the way he smelt of lavender.

even just looking at him made me relax.

i wonder—

it wouldn’t hurt to just—

cautiously, i tilted my head, slowly, before eventually resting my head on top of his. when i sensed that he hadn’t woken up, i shut my eyes, and let out a contented sigh of relief.

i’ll ask for his name when i wake up..

———

“miss! miss! please wake up!”

almost as soon as i had closed my eyes, i was opening them again, but this time i wasn’t met with those same warm, honey eyes. no. this time i was met with a pair of worried eyes that belonged to a ticket-checker.

“miss, this is the final stop before the train heads back, please let me escort you out.” he said in a monotone, though his expression was one of kindness and sincerity.

“oh—yes of course, i’m sorry for the bother.” i quickly said, suddenly realising i may have made his job harder than it already was.

“not at all.”

i was about to turn to the stranger beside me, in hopes of wondering where he was going but, much to my disappointment, he was gone.

i never got his name..

before i had time to mourn my little crush, something brightly coloured caught my eye.

there in my lap, was a rose. the same rose that was in the bouquet the stranger was taking to his mother.

and there attached to it was a note.

carefully, i detached the note from the rose and read it.

“+82xx xxxxxx — let’s meet again pretty. from heeseung.”

a smile crept onto my face as i re-read the note over and over.

his name was heeseung.

[moonstruckme]

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!

Thank you lovely!

cw: mention of kidnapping/missing girl (that’s the backdrop of the scene so please be careful with yourself), Spencer has some dark/hopeless thoughts about the case

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets. 

“Hey.” 

He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, you look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand. 

“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?” 

Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.” 

A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.” 

“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.” 

“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out. 

She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else. 

Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.” 

“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.” 

“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that your cold face might be warming some now. “I figured you might need them, so.” 

“You were right.” 

Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?” 

“That’d be great,” he says, relieved. 

He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours. 

“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!” 

“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?” 

You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.” 

“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.” 

“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.” 

The backs of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks. 

Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm. 

“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job. 

You straighten immediately. “We were just—”

“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.” 

Spencer suspects his face is pinker than can be explained by the chill as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.” 

“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest. 

He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug. 

“This has lipstick on the lid.” 

Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.” 

“So you started on mine?” 

“I sampled.” 

“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.” 

He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”

[gildedsilk]

You Can Walk Home 🚙

Pt 2/2.

• Sim Jaeyun x Reader | Wc: 1K+ | Angst, Comfort | PG-13 ༻

༺ Masterlist | Pt 1.

The sound of tires rolling over wet pavement barely registered in your mind until a pair of headlights illuminated the sidewalk ahead of you. The familiar black car slowed to a crawl beside you, the hum of the engine the only thing cutting through the quiet of the night.

You didn’t stop walking.

The passenger-side window rolled down, and Jake’s voice—steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—broke through the cold air.

“Get in the car.”

You ignored him, tightening your arms around yourself as you picked up your pace. The rain had started drizzling again, fine droplets clinging to your hair, your clothes, chilling you to the bone.

The car matched your speed.

“Y/N.” His voice was firmer this time, less of a request and more of a demand. “Please.”

That made you stop.

You turned your head, meeting his eyes through the open window. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles taut, and his jaw was clenched in a way that told you he was frustrated. But beneath all of that, beneath the irritation and the stubbornness, was something else.

Regret.

“You told me to walk home,” you reminded him, your voice quieter than you intended, but it carried the weight of the hurt you felt.

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before resting it on the gear shift. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into your arms. “But you did.”

His grip on the wheel tightened. “I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

Silence settled between you, heavy and uncertain. The streetlights above cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the way his eyes searched yours, desperate for you to understand.

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” he admitted, softer this time. “Just… get in the car.”

You hesitated. Every ounce of pride in you wanted to keep walking, to make him feel the weight of what he’d said. But at the same time, you were exhausted—emotionally, physically, in every way that mattered. The fight had drained you, and the cold wasn’t helping.

With a sigh, you reached for the car door handle and slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car immediately enveloping you. Jake didn’t say anything as he reached over, turning up the heat without a word.

The ride was quiet at first. The sound of rain tapping against the windshield filled the space between you, but the weight of everything unspoken was suffocating.

“I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he said finally, his hands gripping the wheel. “I don’t want us to get to a point where we say things we don’t mean.”

You stared at your lap, tracing patterns on your jeans. “Then why does it feel like we’re already there?”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you over it.”

Something in his voice cracked at the end, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. The frustration was still there, but beneath it was something raw. Something vulnerable.

“We need to talk,” you said, voice steady.

Jake nodded, his grip loosening on the wheel. “Yeah. We do.”

And for the first time that night, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t walking away from each other after all.

The rest of the drive home was quiet—not the heavy, suffocating silence from earlier, but something softer. Tentative. Like the space between you both was fragile, held together by the things left unsaid.

Jake’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a nervous habit you’d seen countless times, but tonight it felt different. Less like restlessness, more like hesitation. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

You stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, your thoughts tangled in everything that had happened. The fight. The words you didn’t mean. The ones that still hurt anyway.

When Jake finally pulled into the driveway, he cut the engine but didn’t move. Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of the rain, the occasional drip of water sliding off the roof of the car.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Come inside?” His voice was careful, like he wasn’t sure if you’d say no.

You exhaled slowly, fingers gripping the hem of your sleeve before you nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the rain light but still enough to make you shiver. Jake didn’t hesitate this time—he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before unlocking the front door.

The warmth of the apartment wrapped around you as you stepped inside. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and something undeniably Jake. Familiar. Safe.

You slipped off your shoes, still holding his jacket tightly around yourself as you followed him into the living room. He stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, before finally turning to face you.

“We should talk,” he said quietly.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket. “I know.”

A heavy sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion. “For everything. For what I said. I shouldn’t have—” He exhaled sharply. “I shouldn’t have told you to walk home.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s not the part that hurt the most, Jake.”

His brows furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “Then what was?”

You hesitated, but you had to say it. You couldn’t keep holding it in.

“The way you made it seem like I’m just… too much. Like I’m always picking fights when all I’ve been trying to do is get you to talk to me.” Your voice was quieter now, but steady. “Lately, it feels like you’re somewhere else even when you’re right in front of me. And I don’t know how to fix that if you won’t let me.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might shut down again.

But then he let out a shaky breath. “You’re not too much,” he said, stepping closer. “I promise you, you’re not.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve been pulling away?”

He exhaled, rubbing his temples before finally meeting your gaze again. “Because I’m scared, Y/N.”

That made you pause. “Scared?”

Jake let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Scared that I’m gonna mess this up. Scared that one day you’re gonna wake up and realize I’m not enough for you.” His voice dropped, softer now. “So I started shutting down without even realizing it. I thought maybe if I didn’t say the wrong thing, if I just kept things light, I wouldn’t ruin this. But I was ruining it anyway, wasn’t I?”

Your heart clenched. You hadn’t expected that.

“Jake…” You took a step forward, closing the space between you. “You are enough. You always have been.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable, and it made your chest ache.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Then don’t push me away.”

Jake stared at your joined hands for a moment before his grip tightened, like he was afraid to let go.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I swear, I won’t.”

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. Then, finally, Jake pulled you in—slowly, cautiously, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You went willingly, melting against him as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He buried his face in your shoulder, exhaling deeply like he was finally letting go of something heavy. You held him just as tightly, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin, the words soft but certain.

Your breath hitched.

He’d said it before, but tonight it felt different. Like a reassurance. A reminder. A promise.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his expression open in a way that made your chest tighten.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

A breath of relief escaped him, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you. Slow and deep, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t put into words into this moment.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him as close as possible.

By the time you pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, breath mingling in the quiet of the room.

Jake let out a small, almost sheepish laugh. “So… I guess we’re okay?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Yeah,” you said softly. “We’re okay.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you into his warmth, and for the first time that night, the weight between you disappeared.

The fight was behind you. The words were forgiven. And as Jake pressed one last kiss to your forehead, you knew that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

[farfromstrange]

Thumb v Printer | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your clumsiness keeps Matt on edge at all times. Like when you cut your thumb on a printer.

Warnings: None. (Maybe slight description of injury for those of you who are squeamish). Tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: ~1k

A/n: This did happen to me. It's healed now, but a piece of my thumb was missing for like a week and it wasn't fun. All because I had to print my sources for an essay and the paper got stuck. Smh.

Read Me On AO3!

If a stranger came up to you and told you, “I smell blood,” it would be more than enough to make you run for the hills. Sharing a home with Matt Murdock though, you have heard stranger things. 

You turn from your spot on the sofa, putting your laptop aside for a moment to greet him. “Hello to you too,” you answer casually.

He tilts his head in your direction. His nostrils flare. You know better than to question it. He’s wearing the same suit he left your shared apartment with this morning, his tie only loosened slightly to allow him some air to breathe. The last streaks of sunlight filter through the window, enveloping him in an ethereal glow. He’s so beautiful, but he doesn’t allow you much time to admire him as he stands in the hallway, his hands propped up on his hips as though he is about to lecture you on criminal law before the Civil War.

“You opened the first-aid kit,” he states. “What happened?” 

It’s an astute observation, you have to give him that. “Oh. Yeah.” You chuckle. “I just cut my finger on the printer, that’s all.”

He stutters for a moment, almost like an old engine. “You… I’m sorry, what?”

His worried expression fades into something else entirely. You know that look all too well; he’s confused—so confused, in fact, that he forgets how concerned he was a minute ago.

“I cut my finger on the printer,” you repeat, shrugging. “Happens.”

“I’m gonna regret asking you this, but…how?”

“Well, I was printing some documents earlier, and the paper got stuck, so, I had to lift the top and get in there, right?”

He nods. “Right.” 

So far, it sounds plausible, but he knows you. Matt is well aware that your clumsiness manages to exceed his in many ways, and you have gotten yourself into predicaments in the past that he still hasn’t wrapped his head around. Sometimes, shit happens to and around you, and he has to accept that. He never fails to try though, which is kind of endearing, in a way. It’s something you have gotten used to over the years; he has to ensure you’re okay or he can’t find a moment to rest.

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” you confess, “so I had to put my face as close as possible to see what I was doing. Anyway, the paper ripped and since my position didn’t allow for any traction, I accidentally got my thumb caught on a sharp edge because if I’d pulled my hand out I would’ve hit myself in the face.”

A moment of silence passes. The wheels in Matt’s head visibly turn. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants, still processing. Eventually, he asks, “What?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up. I was busy trying to fix my thumb and the printer.”

“I’m not… sweetheart, I’m not worried about the mess. I’m worried about you.” Matt slips the glasses off his nose and places them aside. 

“I’m okay,” you tell him. But are you, really?

“You sure?” He bridges the gap between you, tugging at your hand to run his fingers over the bandage; the cut underneath screams in protest. “Let me check.” His hazel eyes focus blankly at the space where your nose is, but it feels as though he is staring into your soul. 

“Matt…” You try to stop him, but he swiftly unpacks the injury. 

He sucks in a sharp breath when the scent hits him. You wonder what it smells like; blood, definitely, and maybe some of the ink you accidentally got into the wound before disinfecting it. His thumb gently inspects the area around it, trying not to hurt you. Matt can’t help but shake his head again; it doesn’t take much for him to realize that it isn’t just a tiny cut. 

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Feels like you’re missing some skin there.”

You try to make light of the situation. “Maybe we’ll find it the next time one of us prints something.”

His jaw clenches. You’re not in pain anymore, and your fight with the printer did not lead to a life-threatening injury, but he can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, not even for a second. 

“I love you,” he says, “but you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” It’s not as endearing as it usually sounds.

“Huh.” You huff. “That’s saying a lot, considering you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m blind,” he retorts, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He’s standing there, expression suggesting he thinks you have officially lost your mind, and it rubs you the wrong way.

You retract your hand, glaring at him with all you’ve got. “And I’m extremely short-sighted!” You don’t have to yell for him to feel the intended sting of your tone. 

His hands find their way back to his hips like a condescending mother. “Why weren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“Because,” you say, “I accidentally got coffee on them this morning and forgot to put them back on.” Your confidence falters halfway through though, realizing it doesn’t work well in your defense. Especially not in an argument with a skilled lawyer such as your boyfriend.

You love his caring nature more than life, but sometimes he treats you like a child who needs saving. Your heart is racing in your chest, and perhaps that is why he stops before you can make an argument out of a simple cut on your finger. It’s not worth it.

“I… you know what,” Matt caves, and his biceps relax, “I’m not even going to ask.”

You nod, albeit not triumphantly. You didn’t exactly win this battle of wits. “Yeah. Probably for the better,” you answer, chin held high, but it’s of no use.

You got defeated. By a printer. 

His lips curve into a soft smile. “C’mere.” He leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He smells of his cologne, paper, and coffee—like home. And he probably tastes like what he had for lunch or maybe the water he gozzled before heading home, but there is always a slight tinge of something indescribable when he kisses you. 

Before your lips can finally touch though, he halts. Matt sniffs, licking his lips and tasting the air. “You smell like ink,” he says. 

Your eyes narrow. Asshole. “Thank you. That’s…should I pour bleach into my mouth to accommodate you, Murdock?” you snap, pushing away from him.

Instead of begging on his knees for forgiveness—a dramatic notion you would not be opposed to—he laughs. Matt Murdock has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out between giggles. “I’m sorry. Hey!” He tugs at your arm once more. “At least let me hug you. Please.”

You pout. “I’ll bite you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I might.”

He brings you into his arms with little resistance from your end, guiding your head just above his heart. So you can hear him. Feel him. Smell him. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair. 

You bury your face in his chest. It’s unfair how comfortable he is. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re irreplaceable,” you say, but it lacks conviction.

Matt clicks his tongue. “You’re so nice to me.” 

“You started it.”

“That’s fair.” Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head back up. “I still love you.”

You can’t bite back a smile this time, purring, “Oh, I know.” 

That’s never going to change, you know. And you love him. All of him, all the time, and unconditionally. 

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart

[elllisaaa]

ateez as chase atlantic songs

-> pairing : ateez x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.9k words

-> genre : smut, angst, toxic relationships, friends with benefits, exes, enemies

-> warnings : use of 'slut', 'bunny', 'whore', 'good girl', 'brat' & 'bitch', dom&sub dynamics, dirty talk, teasing, creampie, swearing, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessivness, begging, semi-public, sex, rough sex, body worship, praise, oral (m. & f. receiving), deep throating, cum eating, degradation, dry humping, marking, fingering, choking, bondage, edging, handjob, face slapping, hair pulling

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | 1k event masterlist

KIM HONGJOONG - SWIM

"the water’s getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim."

→ Dating Hongjoong had never been easy. He was always busy, never there when you needed him to, always canceling plans and dates and not putting any effort into your relationship. That was why you broke up with him, that was why you left without any regrets. But one thing you must admit was that the sex with him had always been incredible, the best you’ve ever had. And everytime he called you back because he needed you to unwind some tension, you always came back to him.

“- Just like that, baby, ride me.”

His hands holding your hips and guiding your movements made shivers come alive on your skin, leaving you a trembling and moaning mess on top of him. You couldn’t even count how many times you ended up exactly like that, riding him in his desk chair when he was too stressed by work to go out and find a girl to fuck. Why bother when you were here to give him your pussy whenever he wanted to ?

“- Joong… I’m so close.

- Me too, gonna fill you up, yeah ? Gonna make you mine again.”

You could only moan and throw your head back, pleasure overtaking every one of your senses. There was no feeling left between the two of you, but the sex was too good to give it up. 

“- Fuck, you’re dripping with my cum, look at that.”

Hongjoong scooped up the sticky substance sliding down your thighs, bridging up his fingers to your lips. And you obediently opened up your mouth, licking him clean. 

“- Such a good girl.”

And for him, you always were, because he knew exactly how to please you. 

"probably should’ve fucked on the first night, now i gotta wait for the green light."

→ Since your friend group was still the same as Hongjoong’s, you often ran into him at parties. And even if you knew you would always end the night with him railing you, you loved to play hard to get, to flirt with every other man there to make him mad. It was petty, and it was out of line, but you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help playing with him a little bit. 

“- You think you can do that in front of me ? Acting like a bitch just to get my dick.

- Not my fault you can’t get enough of me.”

He got you pinned against a wall in the hallway, one of his legs slotted between your thighs and pressing against your dampened panties just right. He had that smirk on his face - dangerously attractive.

“- Come on, you know better than to tease me.”

But you didn’t want to surrender this easily, and Hongjoong knew it, gripping your jaw and guiding your lips to his. While he was devouring your mouth, his hands took a hold of your waist, making you grind against his leg. And soon enough, you were moaning in his mouth as if you were in heat. 

“- Just say yes, Y/N.”

You had just enough consciousness left to nod and not let him fuck you where everyone could interrupt you. But truth be told, you might have let him do it if he asked you. You couldn't help but be drawn right back to him every time you saw him. It was like muscle memory, your body remembering how good it felt every time his hand was innocently laying on your waist. And you were completely over him, but not his body. And judging by the looks of the hickeys he loved to leave on your skin, he was not over yours either. 

PARK SEONGHWA - RIGHT HERE

"it’s happening again, well, i don’t give a fuck about your friends, i’m right here."

→ It all started when San introduced you to Seonghwa and his pretty long hair, and his pretty face, and his pretty body. You couldn’t detach your gaze from him, and it seemed like he couldn’t look away from you either. That’s how you ended up in his bed for the first time - but definitely not the last.

“- Seonghwa… People could see us.

- It’s okay, pretty, nobody cares. Just let me kiss you some more.”

And like a magnet, your lips met his again. You could feel his hands roaming all around your body, pushing your dress higher up your thighs so you could fully straddle him. You could feel his hard on pressing against your core every time you shifted a little bit against him, low moans escaping him and crashing against your lips. You couldn’t help the urge to grind against him faster, little whines coming out of your mouth and mingling with his own sounds. 

“- Don’t stop, pretty, you’re doing so good for me.”

His praises that he made sure to whisper with his head buried into your neck made you shiver in his hold, but Seonghwa was already too focused on marking up your skin to care about the fact that you looked so fucked up already, that they were still people around the two of you. 

“-  I wanna fuck you in front of everyone, show them how much of a slut you are for me, show them how perfect you are and that they’ll never make you feel as good as I do.”

The worst part was that it was true, and that you would let him do that if he touched you the right way to make you fold. Except that Seonghwa wanted to keep the view of your bare cunt all for himself, making you scream his name behind closed doors for everyone at the party to hear.

"i’m always ready to go, i’m calling you pick up your phone."

→ “- I can’t Hwa, I’m out with friends right now and you know it. 

- But please, lovely, I really want to see you, I need you.”

You bit your lips as you looked around the bar, seeing all your friends laughing and having fun, but all you could think about was Seonghwa and the last time he made you feel good. So you sent a single message to your best friend, and you left. 

“- Just thinking about you going out dressed like this… It’s driving me crazy, you’re driving me crazy, baby.”

But right now, he was the one driving you insane with the way his fingers moved inside of you, with the way his tongue was playing with your clit. It was always like that, and both of you loved it. You made each other go mad. He was jealous when he shouldn’t be, and you were possessive when you had no right to be. 

“- Please, Hwa…

- Gonna make you cum on my tongue first, yeah ? And then I’ll fuck you like you want to.”

You nodded and let yourself go to the feeling, your hands dipping in his hair and tugging on his black strands as if you wanted to push him even closer to you. And when he finally let you feel his cock, it was his hands that were lost in your hair, as if he needed something to ground himself in reality. 

“- You’re making me lose my mind, always here everytime I call you… You always come back to me, right ?

- Yes ! Yes, you’re the only one I need.”

You shouldn’t say that, and Seonghwa shouldn’t love hearing those words so much, he shouldn’t fuck you harder everytime you begged him for more only because your voice was as sweet as honey, only because your scent was intoxicating and invading all his sense. Because everytime you called, he was right here too, and everytime you needed him, he was ready to run to you anytime - even if he shouldn’t, because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. 

JEONG YUNHO - SLOW DOWN

"she said “fuck me like i’m famous”, i said “okay”."

→ It wasn’t Yunho’s type to do this. Usually, he would go back to their hotel and let the other members go out and fool around with as many girls as they wanted. But you were different. It sounded so fucking cliché in his head, but it was the truth. There was something in the way you looked at him, something in the way you were behaving that attracted him to you like a magnet. 

“- I didn’t think you'd be the one taking me home tonight.

- Just because I don’t end up with a different girl every night it doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to recognize a pretty girl when I see one.”

And he did show you how beautiful he thought you were when he got you pinned against the wall of the elevator, hands groping your ass shamelessly while he was devouring your mouth. Maybe that was why he never fucked his fans after all - maybe it was because he was a sex god and that they’ll never get over him. 

“- Yunho… 

- Got you wet already, baby ? How are you gonna handle me when I’ll fuck you for real ?”

And he pressed his body against yours, making you feel his big cock through your clothes. The surprise on your face was evident, and Yunho grinned as he unfastened his belt slowly. 

“- You still want it pretty girl ?”

And you did. You showed him how much you wanted it when you got down on your knees to take him in your mouth as he looked down on you, finding it so cute to see you try to control your gag reflex. However, Yunho made sure to reward you by fucking you on every surface available of your apartment. He definitely was a sex god.

"you’re buried in the pillow, yeah, you’re so loud, but i’m about to show you baby, slow down."

→ When he asked you to leave him your number in case he came back to your city, you didn’t think that Yunho would actually text you. However, you sometimes received little messages when he saw something beautiful (“just like you”, he added every time). So in the end, you weren’t surprised when he mentioned that he was in town for a few days, and that he wanted to see you. 

“- Don’t rush, baby, I want to take my time with you.”

It felt awfully good to hear his voice whispering dirty words in ears again, but it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want to become one of his crazy groupies, but you had to admit that you missed him, that you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“- Still the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Gonna let me eat it ?”

And how could you have said no to that ? You let Yunho do everything he wanted, let him worship your body as if you were a Greek goddess. By the time he finally got you on all fours, his big cock sitting deep inside of you, you were already a moaning mess, only able to remember his name, your brain too foggy to think about anything else. 

“- You’re so loud, baby, want everyone to hear that you’re a slut for me ?”

You shook your head, not ready to let the world know that you were in fact a whore for him.

“- Then fucking take it and shut your pretty mouth.”

One of his hands was pushing your head into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure every time his tip was kissing your cervix. And he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him, he didn’t want to admit that you had been on his mind since the last time. You didn’t need to know that you were his favorite fan. 

KANG YEOSANG - INTO IT

"she don’t really like it but she needs me, yeah, she saying she don’t really miss me."

→ “- You’re so fucking childish, Y/N. I don’t even want to argue with you anymore.

- Just say you’re a coward and that you’re afraid of me.”

Yeosang only showed you his middle finger as he turned to leave the room. You let out an exasperated sigh as you took a sip of your coffee. Everytime you were having a good time, he had to ruin it all by his mere presence, and what was supposed to be a calm afternoon at the café with your friends turned into another rambling session about the guy you just couldn’t stand. 

“- Remind me what you were saying again ? That’s right, that I’m a coward ? But do you see yourself now, can’t even look me in the eyes because I’m fucking you too good.”

You wanted to deny, to say he was wrong. But deep inside, you knew he was right. You knew you were losing all your senses as soon as he got you alone, as soon as he got his hands on you. 

“- Yeo, it’s not… Shit ! You know I have to…

- Need to pretend in front of your friends that you’re not a slut for me ? Too ashamed that the poor guy has the richest girl of the college on her knees, right ?”

And he was too close to the truth for you to try and contradict him this time. If they all knew what you let him do to you behind closed doors when you were constantly talking behind his back everyday, they would ruin your reputation and your chances to take over your father’s company one day. 

“- You’re so fucking greedy for my cock.”

You were, you didn’t like it, but you were, to the point that you didn’t care about your future as long as you had him in your bed. 

"say she wanna fuck me latter, girl, i’m into it."

→ “- You’re coming tonight, right ?

- Maybe. I’ll text you later.”

It pained him a little to be so cold with you sometimes, but he had to play hard to get if he didn’t want to lose himself in you completely. Yeosang was aware that your relationship - if you could even call it like that - wasn’t made to last. He was from the middle class and you were rich, and even if he didn’t like these stereotypes, there was no way that you would stop being embarrassed of him one day, there was no way that he could be a part of your world one day.

“- You missed me, uh ? That’s why you always end up calling.

- Yes, always need you Yeo.”

But in the end, he was always back to you, back to the expensive sorority you were staying at, back to these parties he never fitted in. But you were here. 

“- That’s right, you love it when I call you a slut. What would everybody think of you if they knew that you beg for my cock every night ?”

You didn’t want him to reveal the truth about you, but at the same time, you wanted it so bad. Maybe you could live with him, maybe it could be your happy end. And maybe they would think he had corrupted you, but you were into it, and you were into him. But you were not ready to leave your golden cage just yet. 

CHOI SAN - OHMAMI

"telling your friends you hate me but i know you can’t get enough."

→ You couldn’t stand the way he was ogling you like he owned you, and you couldn’t stand the way he glared at every guy approaching as if he had any right over you and your body when he didn’t. He never had any power over you, and you would never let him gain some. Or at least, that’s what you tried to convince everyone of, including yourself. 

“- What are you doing here San ?

- Don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart. We both know what we're here for.

- Go away ! I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

But the way your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you was betraying you, and you knew he was aware of the state he was putting you in. You wanted to make him drop his annoying smirk, and you wanted to make him regret everything he ever did to you. Maybe that was why you kissed him first. Maybe that was why you forced your tongue in his mouth even when he was trying to get you off of him. 

“- What do you think you’re doing Y/N ?

- Exactly what you wanted, Sannie.”

The surname sounded horribly good coming from you, and San didn’t want to see the smug look on your face anymore. So even if he was disgusted by your existence, he kissed you again, and again, and again, until you couldn’t think anymore, alcohol and lust both clouding your mind. 

“- And what now ? You’re gonna fuck me ?

- Maybe I should. 

- Yeah, maybe you should.”

"i bent the corner then she bent it for me sidways, might have to fuck her on the highway, yeah."

→ Every party San was there was a torture. You remembered every detail of his lips against yours when all you wanted was to forget about it. When your eyes crossed his, it was as if you could still feel your hands tugging on his hair, and his fingers slipping past the hem of your skimpy dress. Everytime your mind drifted back to these memories, you felt on the verge of throwing up. But your only way to relieve your stress was through him, sadly.

“- Didn’t think you would be back to me so soon, sweetheart. 

- Don’t play dumb, San. You know I’m just here because you got some good weed. 

- Come with me, I left it in my car.”

You were suspicious, but you really needed a good smoking session and he was the only one that could offer you that right now. So you followed him, and you didn’t think further when he asked you if you wanted him to roll you a joint right now. You must have to be a little more considerate next time if you didn't want to end up riding San in his car. 

“- Always knew you were slut, I should’ve given you my dick sooner.”

You wanted to throw back a clever answer at him, but only a moan escaped your mouth. The car was moving along with every one of his thrusts into your pussy, and the windows were so fogged up, there was no way people didn’t know what was going on.

“- Can’t get enough of me, uh ?

- Don’t get so full of yourself, I doubt you can make me cum.”

His condescending laugh as he wrapped a hand around your throat made you shiver. And maybe you should get out and never see him again, but it was all so disgustingly good. 

“- Oh, but I’m not the one who will end up full, Y/N. You think I’m letting you go before giving you a little souvenir ? You’re gonna take it all, and think about it for days after I’ve forgotten about the way you taste.”

It was a lie, he was equally as obsessed with you. But the desire he was feeling for you was unmistakable, even if it made him sick to admit it. 

SONG MINGI - FRIENDS

"just tell me what you’re doing with that other guy ‘cause i ain’t got patience to slow down the pace."

→ Mingi always stuck to looking at you from afar, to only being your best friend. Even if you made out with him a few times, even if he had eaten you out on numerous occasions when your dates couldn’t even make you cum. Even with that, he was still your best friend, and he shouldn’t feel jealous of the guy you were drunkenly grinding against. 

“- Mingi ! Why don’t you come and dance with me ?”

And he could never deny you anything. So he said yes, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you as close to him as possible. Your eyes were glazed by all the alcohol you drank, but that still didn’t stop you from noticing the way Mingi was shamelessly staring at your lips. 

“- You want to kiss me ?

- You know I’ll always say yes.”

So you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and you let him slip his tongue into your mouth, and let his hands push you closer to his body. Everytime your lips touched his, Mingi couldn’t help thinking about how good you were tasting, about how well you were fitting in his arms. 

“- You’re taking me home tonight ?

- Thought you wanted to go back to this guy’s place.

- No, I always want you in the end.”

The sincerity pouring from your words made his heart beat faster, and that same night when you were laying in his bed and he was balls deep inside of you, it finally felt perfect - from the way you were moaning his name to the clench of your cunt around him.

"what the hell were we ? tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense." 

→ “- You can’t come and ruin every one of my dates, Mingi !

- Yeah ? But who do you come to when they don’t know your body like I do ? And who do you come crying to when they leave you alone and I have to pick you up ? I’m always here when you need me, can’t you see that ?”

Flames were burning in your best friend’s eyes like never before, and you could only blame yourself and your inability to face the truth, to admit your own feelings. 

“- We're just friends ! You have no right over me.

- Do you really think friends make out the way we do, Y/N ? Do you think friends know that you like to be called a slut ? Do you think friends know how to fuck you the way I do ?”

You didn’t realize how close he had gotten, too entranced by the way he was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you. And you knew he was right, you knew that you shouldn’t be friends with him after all that happened, but the “what if”’s always scared you enough to chicken out. 

“- Then what do you want ?

- You.”

It was as simple as that, and Mingi made sure to prove it to you when he repeated these three words through the night, these three words he was dying to tell you for years. And he made sure that you knew no one could ever make you cum as hard as he did, and he made sure that you knew no one could ever compare to him, because who could understand you better than your friend ?

JUNG WOOYOUNG - MEDDLE ABOUT

"now if i could figure it out, i’d take you back to my house so we could meddle about"

→ Your eyes were shining under the club's lights, and Wooyoung couldn't help but hold your gaze for longer than he should everytime they crossed, because there was just something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. He never saw you before that night, but he knew that he wanted to have you as soon as he laid his eyes on you. 

“- Can I offer you another drink ?”

You looked up at him with a slight grin on your face, because you weren’t blind - you noticed how he was staring at you all night, and you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t checked him out too.

“- What for ?

- Because you’re a pretty girl. Do I need another reason ?

- Depends. But since you’re quite handsome yourself, I’ll say yes.”

That was how it all started, and you quickly forgot about your friends you came to the bar with and spent the whole night talking with him instead. You didn’t think you would click with him past physical attraction, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up either. And as time and drinks passed, Wooyoung got more and more touchy, his hands landing on your thighs, on your waist, rubbing circles against the exposed skin of your sides due to your skimpy dress. 

“- Wanna end the night at mine ?

- I don’t come back to the guys’ places on the first night, Woo.

- Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you somewhere else.”

And you obviously couldn’t argue with such a logic - and maybe that you wanted him too much to say no. That was how you ended up riding him in the backseat of his car, head thrown back in bliss and his hands guiding your hips in a rhythm that had you losing your mind so easily. 

"you got me down on my knees, it’s getting harder to breathe out."

→ “- Please, baby, don’t make me wait.

- But I think you deserved it, don’t you ?”

You had been teasing him for far too long for him to even remember when you started stroking his cock and taking him into your mouth. His hands were closed in fists, trying to ground himself in reality even if he was slowly losing his mind with the way you had tied him up, forbidding him from touching you. 

“- Come one, don’t be a brat.”

Your hand coming down to slap his face had him moaning embarrassingly loud, the way he was pounding into you and making you cry last weekend long forgotten. 

“- You’re the one doing everything to get on my nerves, baby. Acting like a slut and flirting with anyone just to get my attention, right ?”

Wooyoung wanted to deny it, but it was the truth. Whenever you didn’t give him all your time, he was willing to do everything it took to earn it back, even if it meant that you were going to edge him for hours and hours. 

“- You’re such a dumb whore, it’s pathetic.

- Let me cum, please, please, I need it.”

It only took another “slut” whispered right against the skin of his neck for the boy to let go and cover your hand in his sticky release. Even if he knew he wasn’t your only one, Wooyoung couldn’t help coming back to you every time, because he couldn’t stop thinking about you - one word from you, and he was on his knees. And it was indeed pathetic, but he couldn’t care less when you felt so divine. 

CHOI JONGHO - CHURCH

"stay on the ground ‘till your knees hurt, no more praying baby, i’ma be your preacher."

→ When you first met Jongho, you thought of him as a sweet guy, always so caring and gentle despite being sometimes shy and a little quiet around you. And even when you started going out together, he was always so cute and gentle - holding the door for you, walking you home and gifting you flowers. 

“- You better quit the attitude and behave if you want to cum at all tonight, bunny.”

But now that he got you down on your knees, hands tied down behind your back, and forcing his cock down your throat because you had teased him earlier that day, your views of him completely changed. And honestly, you liked it like that, as if the moans you were letting out around him weren’t enough of a hint.

“- That’s more like it, doesn’t it feel good to listen to me, sweetheart ?”

You nodded as best as you could, with saliva dripping down your chin and tears running down your cheeks. It made sense with the pool of arousal in your underwear, though. You knew that obeying to your boyfriend meant a delicious reward in the end. 

“- Such a good girl when you want to, gonna make me cum. You’re gonna swallow it all, uh ?”

You didn’t even need to answer that because you always did, never wasting a drop and maintaining that eye contact as Jongho released down your throat, groaning lowly at the sinful sight you offered him. He would never admit it, but you being a little brat had its perks as it gave him an excuse to punish you and play with you in any ways he wished. 

"baptize in your thighs ‘till it hurts, ‘cause i’m about to take you back to church."

→ “- You’re so needy bunny, what’s gotten into you.

- It’s the suit, you look too good.”

The little smirk on Jongho’s face as he pushed you down on the bed was as annoying as it was turning you on. Whenever you where in the audience at an award show and he wore these fucking suits, it got you all worked up and you could barely hold back from jumping his bones until you were home.

“- I’ll never understand why when you literally see me naked all the time.

- Just accept that you are handsome as hell and fuck me.”

You yelped as he flipped you over easily and put you on your knees, bent down into the pillows - so easily that it did nothing to help with your growing need to feel him into you. 

“- Watch your mouth, bunny. You don’t want to make me mad now.”

You shook your head and Jongho slapped your ass as a reward. And when you felt him eagerly sliding your dress past your hips and only pushing your panties to the side before he filled you up, you knew that he had craved this all night too. 

“- Always so tight and wet for me.

- Just for you.”

And he certainly reminded you of that as he ruined you that night, making you cry and scream his name, making your knees buckle and your scalp hurt from his fingers pulling at your hair, making you lose your sanity and cum like no one had before. Because Jongho was the sweetest boyfriend ever, but he was also the meanest when it came to the bedroom, and that duality would probably be the death of you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

ateez taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@sharonxdevi @hann1bee @lil-kpopstan @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @lovelyuyu @snouvllvg

1k event taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@emmaluvsjisung

[andforyouevan]

Perfect Timing

All right, my arm didn't really have to be twisted that hard. Post 8x9 and sort of post 8x10 too because I didn't have the inclination to work in Maddie's rescue, so here everything is all good. Have some bucktommy fluff my lovelies.

SPOILERS FOR 8X9 and 8X10 (vaguely)

bucktommy - words: 1k - rating: teen - complete

"You know," Buck says as he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily, a blissful smile spreading across his face. "I just went out for avocados."

The laugh from the person next to him is so gorgeous and so fucking missed that Buck has to look at him. Tommy's hair is disheveled from Buck running his fingers through it, a gorgeous blush still dusting his cheeks, down his neck and across his chest, and Buck can't help remember all the other times they’ve done this and how fucking good it felt then too.

“I certainly didn’t expect to run into you at the grocery story and then end up screwing on Eddie’s couch, that’s for sure,” Tommy says, from his slumped position, turning his face toward him, a soft satiated smile curling up the corners of his mouth. God, Buck’s missed him, but he’s not going to tell him that, no, this will be a one off thing…

“I missed you,” he blurts out, then winces. Damn it.

Tommy’s smile fades, but not in a way that Buck was expecting. No, it’s more...contemplative...than anything else Buck could have imagined. He’s not getting up off of the couch to run, so Buck will take that as a win.

“I missed you too,” Tommy says softly to Buck’s surprise. He makes a decision in that moment, reaches a hand out. It only hangs in the air for the tiniest second before Tommy takes it, threading their fingers together.

“Evan, I-” but then he stops and Buck winces again, because he knows what’s going to come next. The ‘let’s be friends’ talk. The ‘now that we got this out of our systems, we don’t ever have to see each other again talk’ but...

“I’ve been wanting to call you.”

Buck sits up, peers at him, tries not to get distracted by all that gorgeous, naked skin. “What?”

Tommy sighs, sits up too, settles himself against the couch. He takes Buck’s wrist and pulls him in so Buck is settled against his side and wow, Buck has missed this too.

“I...I regretted leaving that night the second I did it,” Tommy admits. “I hated it, and I didn’t mean any of what I said, I just...I freaked out.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” Buck wonders.

Tommy shrugs, but it’s not dismissive of Buck...it’s as though he’s trying to dismiss his own feelings. Buck gets that. “I didn’t think I deserved to.”

“Of course you did,” Buck insists. “I would have welcomed it.”

“My own insecurities got the better of me,” Tommy says ruefully. “I was afraid I’d hurt us both more.”

“But you wanted to talk right? I noticed you bubbling me.”

Tommy’s looks a little confused and it’s so stupidly cute that Buck has to hold in a laugh. “Like as in texting you?”

Buck nods and Tommy shakes his head. “Evan, there were about a hundred times that I did that. I kept deleting them. One time, Lucy took my phone from me so I couldn’t send you anything. I was driving her nuts apparently.”

“You too?” Buck says. “God, I noticed in and was going to call you but...it doesn’t matter. I wish you had. I wish I had given in too, instead of listening to everyone else. I just wanted us to talk, you know?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah. But I saw you in that grocery store and I just...I couldn’t resist.”

Buck snorts a laugh, motioning to their naked bodies. “Clearly.”

Tommy laughs again. “Yeah, well, you led me here. Speaking of which, why are we here? Where in the world is Eddie?”

Buck explains everything and when he’s done, he’s somehow now curled up under Tommy’s arm, playing with the fingers of the hand curled over his shoulder.

Tommy gives a low whistle. “Wow. Good for him, it was clearly needed. Will he be back?”

“I don’t know,” Buck says. “Maybe eventually. Not anytime soon. We talk a lot though and Chris seems to be doing great. I, um, went a little crazy. I didn’t like the idea of him leaving you know? Even though I knew and understood that he had to go be with his son.”

“That’s not stupid,” Tommy says. “I get it.”

Buck sits up, dislodging Tommy’s arm. “I don’t want you to think you have to stay now, though. If this…” Buck clears his throat, hates what he’s about to stay, but he doesn’t want to force Tommy to stay now if it’s not what he wants. “If this is a one-time thing, then I’m glad I got that, at least.”

“What if that’s not what I want?” Tommy asks gently.

“It’s not what I want either,” Buck admits. “I want everything with you, Tommy. I always have.”

Tommy watches him carefully before cupping Buck’s cheeks in his hands, tenderly, so sweetly, that Buck feels like the most precious thing in the world. The kiss that follows is very different than the ones they exchanged when they crashed through the front door, frantically peeling each other’s clothes off like they were going to die if they didn’t feel the other’s skin right. fucking. now. Honestly, that feeling is a low simmer under Buck’s skin but he can ignore it for now.

The kiss is chaste, sweet, and when it ends, Tommy rests his forehead against Buck’s and he takes one of Tommy’s hands from his face, squeezes it gently.

“What if we got dressed,” Tommy says. “Because I can’t hold conversation with you for long when you look like that and aren’t wearing anything-” Buck snorts a laugh as Tommy continues, “-and we have a nice long talk? Order dinner? See what happens from there?”

“I would love that,” Buck says, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Plus, I have to tell you about Maddie getting kidnapped by a serial killer. Don’t worry, she’s okay now!” Buck hurries to say when Tommy’s eyes widen in alarm. “But it was a whole thing with Eddie leaving and everything. It’s been a hell of a time.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I wish I was here with you for it.”

“You’re here now,” Buck says with a shrug. “We can work out the rest as we go. Deal?”

Tommy’s smile is a sweet, bashful thing, and Buck...Buck has missed him so much more than he realized and he didn’t think that was even possible.

When Tommy mumbles “deal” against Buck’s mouth and Buck wraps his arms around his shoulders and climbs onto his lap, well, maybe it takes a little longer to order dinner after all.

[luveline]

would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3

ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k

cw suggestive content

“Is that okay?” he whispers. 

You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy. 

Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh. 

He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt. 

Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine. 

He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.” 

“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret. 

“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs. 

You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen. 

You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands. 

There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops. 

“I really am sorry, Pete.” 

His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?” 

“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.” 

“What? What are you talking about? I started it.” 

“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”

“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it. 

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.” 

“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.” 

“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.” 

“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.” 

You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then. 

“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively. 

“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.” 

“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.” 

“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh. 

“From that statue on ESU?” 

“What? How would I do that?” 

“Get Spider-Man to help you.” 

You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?” 

“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.” 

You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?” 

Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.” 

“I’ll try not to, Pete.”  

[cozage]

Omg I hope it’s not too late! Happy 2K yayayayay it’s been really fun watching you grow 😭. I remember when your blog was pretty new and I asked you for advice on how to make my own and you said try not to make a 2nd blog. I was wondering if I could have option 1 with a S/O who dated the monster trio but they broke up so now they are trying to win their heart back.

A/N: still my greatest regret is making this a secondary blog but it all worked out! Hope you are doing well :) thanks for being along for the ride.  Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Total word count: 1k

Get You Back

Luffy

Luffy tries his best to move on because he thinks that's what you want.  Even though he hates going to bed alone and not sitting next to you at dinner, he tries to get over it. 

At first he acts like nothing happened. He still runs to tell you stuff as soon as he finds out something, and he always wants to take you on adventures. Sure, you broke up, but you’re still nakama, right?

Nami explains to him that you need some time before things will go back to a sense of normal, and Luffy agrees to give you space. But god, he hates it. He’s so lonely.

One night, he can’t take it anymore. He knows it’s your night to keep watch, and he joins you in the crow’s nest. He knows he should let you be, but he has to try one more thing. 

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?” he asked, looking out over the stars. 

“I’ve already forgiven you, Luffy.” Your voice is sad, and he knows that you’ve been lonely too. 

He turns to look at you, eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest. “Do you think we’ll ever be together again?”

“I-” you stop, captivated by his wide, hopeful eyes. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. 

“I miss you,” he admitted. “I miss you so much. I hate going to bed and I hate not being around you during the day. I hate when I find a cool bug and I can’t show it to you, or when we visit an island and you don’t join me on an adventure. I just want things to be normal again. I’ll do anything, please.”

“I want to be with you, Luffy,” you said. “I just-”

He lunged for you, his lips attacking you with desperation and eagerness. You can feel his words turning into actions; you can feel how much he has longed to kiss you and touch your skin again. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll work out this time. 

Zoro

Zoro didn’t think you were serious when you said it was over. So, when he went into his room and couldn’t find any of your things, he was confused. 

He sought you out, curious. “Hey, where’s your stuff?” 

But you just rolled your eyes. “Get it through your brain Zoro. Unlike you, I say what I mean. We’re over.”

Oh. That last fight had been a breakup fight. Now he understood. 

But he saw the pain in your eyes. He knew you didn’t want this outcome. So he’d just have to prove that he was worthy of you 

He doesn’t beg for you back, but he keeps his word with everything he does. 

When you ask him to do something, he does it. Hell, even if the cook asks him to do something, he does it without complaint (especially if you’re in the room). He always keeps his word. Always. 

Part of him acts like nothing happened. He still shares booze with you, naps near you, laughs with you. But he won’t ask for you back. Even if its the only thing he wants.

After about a month, he’s had enough. It’s just the two of you on the ship, watching the Sunny as the others run off to the island. 

“When are we going to go back to normal?” he demands, storming up to you. “Don’t you think we’ve been apart for too long?”

“I told you, Zoro-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice was gruff as he pushed you up against the wall and pinned you there with his own body. “Please, don’t say it.”

“We’re bad for each other,” you whispered, trying to ignore the mess of emotions you were feeling at the moment.

“We’re not,” he argued. “I swear we’re not. Let me prove it.” His lips hover over your mouth, waiting for permission. “Please, let me prove it.”

“One more cha-” His lips crash into yours, and you find yourself melting into the touch you had missed so much over the past few weeks. 

Sanji

This man is the best at apologies. He knows no shame and smothers you in love. 

Every morning, you get an immaculate breakfast. Your snacks and desserts are the ones he knows you adore. You are pampered beyond your wildest imagination (which is impressive after dating Sanji for so long. You thought you had seen it all.)

Fresh flowers at your bedside every morning (where is he getting all of these flowers??). Rose petals lead to your bedroom at night. You’d think you were on a honeymoon.

It’s almost annoying. It’s almost too much. But Sanji knows when he’s starting to become annoying, and he’ll let up slightly, just long enough for you to calm down. And then he’ll start back up again. 

The biggest thing for you though, is the next time you go onto an island. 

His eyes stay on you. They hardly even linger as he walks with you, Nami, and Usopp through the shopping district. 

If any pretty ladies walk by, he doesn’t even bother to look. He’s so captivated by you that he doesn’t even notice anyone else. 

While your back is turned or while you’re shopping, he doesn’t even gawk at any islanders (Nami and Usopp watch him for ANY hint of flirtation. There is NONE.)

He only vanishes for a brief moment in a jewelry store, coming back with a little bag of his own. “Cufflinks,” he explains. “My other ones broke.”

When you all get back to the ship, he pulls you aside and gives you a bracelet full of aquamarine stones that reminds you of his eyes. 

“Please, be mine again,” he begs, holding the box out. “It hurt to breathe without you. I need you. Please.”

“Sanji,” you breathe out. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispers. “Y/N, I’m so-”

You jump into his arms, pushing your lips against his. You missed that sweet taste of vanilla that was always on his tongue, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t ever have to go without it again.

[puck-luck]

Can I request #14 of hearts with Mr jack Hughes 🤭 also congrats on 1k!!! 🤩🤩🤩 🫂🫂🫂

final blurb!!! nevr forget this szn of blurbs, see y'all again if/when i hit 10k!

warnings: intox kink, no actual sex, making out, basically being horny bc you're under the influence, taking a trip to eddyville (smoking weed w your bf), slight dirty talk, grinding

wc: 786

You don’t get to get high with your boyfriend often. In fact, it’s usually a once-a-summer thing. Tonight is your one night where you can get absolutely greened out with no repercussions, although you’re really hoping for a chill high rather than a green-out. 

You took the gummies about an hour ago, so they’ve definitely kicked in. You realized they kicked in when you’d registered that you’d been running your fingers through the fringe border of a throw pillow for an entire episode of The Office, which had seemed like the perfect background show for this evening. 

Jack is staring at the TV, though, fully focused on the show. His tongue is poking at the corner of his mouth and his eyes are blank and bright blue. His thumb moves across your ankle– your legs are thrown over his lap. 

The couch is comfortable and your eyes burn a little bit with how dry they are, so you close them. You watch some kaleidoscopic shapes behind your eyelids for a minute, then you open your eyes again, missing Jack. 

His cheeks are round and pink and there’s a tiny sprinkling of facial hair on his jawline. He couldn’t be bothered to shave today, which is fine with you. His bottom lip shines with saliva since he’d licked over it with his wandering tongue. His eyebrows look strong and dark and you have to push yourself up because you really want to feel the hair under your fingertips.

Jack doesn’t tear his attention away from the TV until you’re solidly on his lap, face directly in his eyeline. His eyes really are bright blue and glassy, the white surrounding the blue tinged with pink. If anyone made eye contact with either of you right now, they’d certainly know what you’d been indulging in today.

His mouth curls with a smile, gaze absently tracing over your features. “Pretty,” he says.

You shuffle closer to him, feeling his body solidly beneath yours. His warmth emanates up and fills the space between your legs, which you suddenly realize is craving him. Your head grows foggy with want for Jack, foggier than it was from the weed alone, and you start to wiggle on his lap.

Jack furrows his brow and plants his hands on your behind, halting your movements. “You’re gonna make me hard if you keep doing that,” he says, frowning. 

“Uh-huh,” you reply with a nod. The nodding feels mechanical and it’s hard to stop, so you keep nodding cheerfully. “I want you to be hard.”

Jack’s lips quirk up. His eyes flicker down to your mouth. “Are you horny, baby?” He teases. “High and horny just from sitting on my lap?”

You smile at him, thinking you’re getting your way. You drag one of his hands up to your chest and encourage him to palm your tits.

Jack gets lost in the feeling of that for a minute. His eyes go to watch his own touch, blues growing dark and unfocused. His tongue pokes between his lips like he wants to mouth at your breasts.

His eyes focus again with a shake of his head. “We can’t,” Jack groans. “We didn’t talk about it before.”

Chivalry? You demand to yourself, feeling let down. At a time like this? Give in, Jack.

Outwardly, you whine and deflate on his lap. “Jack,” you complain. You can feel his cock underneath your cunt, pressing through his sweatpants and yours. He’s only about half-hard, so you know he’s got interest in fucking you, but there’s still the sting of him turning you down when you want him to make you come.

“I know,” Jack soothes you, looking regretful as he removes his hand from your chest and returns it to your hip. “I want to. But we can’t– as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you could ever dream of.”

“But I want it now,” you drone, cupping Jack’s face and frowning at him.

“God, you’re sexy when you’re asking me for it,” Jack says like he’s cursing. He pulls you closer. “As soon as we’re both sober, we can talk about doing this next time. I bet you’d feel so nice around my cock when you’re all needy like this.” He kisses your neck, which is so unfair. If he won’t go any further, then he should stop teasing you like this.

You pull him away from your skin and overexaggerate a glare, which makes Jack giggle. He finds your lips and kisses you deeply, tracing his tongue over the seam of your mouth.

Even if you can’t fuck, at least Jack will lazily make out with you for the rest of the night.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

What a Lovely Mess

Pairing: Billy Washington x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, allusions to smut. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Billy's girlfriend encourages him to explore a more confident side of himself while decorating the Christmas tree.

Author's note: Day six of Smuffmas - tinsel and talking dirty. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Let’s get a real tree this year!”

They were words she regretted ever uttering. Getting it strapped to the roof of Billy’s beaten up, old Vauxhall Cavalier and then driving it back had been the easy bit. But then they’d arrived home, and maneuvering the tree up the stairwell of the block of flats had proven rather more difficult.

Why don’t we live on the fucking ground floor, why doesn’t this poxy building have a lift – all were thoughts that passed angrily through her mind as her and Billy struggled to pivot the large Chrisrmas tree between the pair of them around the corners of each floor. The height difference between them made it no easier – he towered over her by at least a foot, meaning they weren’t able to carry the cumbersome load level. Billy had stumbled back at one point, sending pine needles scattering over the stairs as the branches had brushed against the wall.

“Jesus, Billy!” she snapped, struggling to right the giant fir as they’d continued upwards.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he huffed back, his brow furrowed and sweaty with exertion.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said moodily, as they’d begun their ascent of the final flight of stairs.

“Do you think I’m going out of my way not to be?” Billy snarked. “Tell you what, let’s just assume that going forward I’m always being careful, unless explicitly told otherwise.”

Moody prick.

She scowled, falling silent as they leaned the tree against the wall so that Billy could fish the keys from his pocket and open the door. The warmth of the central heating that enveloped her as soon as they were inside soured her mood further – she was already clammy from their ordeal on the stairs and was now being smothered by further heat that made her coat stick to her skin with perspiration. She was desperate to peel it off, but they still had to get the tree situated in the living room.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Billy groaned, seeing what it looked like, once they had it positioned in the corner.

It was too tall for the flat – the top of it bent against the ceiling at a right angle.

“Didn’t you measure it?” she asked exasperatedly, struggling out of her coat and letting it drop onto the sofa.

“Did you see me get out a tape measure at the tree yard?” he sniped, brushing the sweat dampened strands of sandy coloured hair from his forehead in an agitated gesture. “I thought all Christmas trees were just house sized.”

She sighed, biting back the urge to tell him what a stupid thing that was to say. “We’ll just have to chop a bit off.”

“Yeah, I think you’re probably right,” he admitted, staring up at it, “if we lop that bit at the top off, it should be fine.”

“You can’t do that!” she protested, “that will ruin the shape of the tree, and then where we will put the star? Take a bit off the trunk at the bottom.”

“I haven’t got anything that could cut through that,” he told her, turning his attention from the tree to her.

“Well, what were you gonna use to cut the top?”

“You know…scissors,” he said, making a snipping motion in the air with his forefingers.

The suggestion and the gesture had caused an involuntary burst of laughter to erupt from her, the sound immediately dissipating the tension that had built between them from the effort of getting the tree into the flat in the first place. He grinned, blue eyes sparkling as he looked at her.

“You know what, let’s leave it as it is,” she said with a smile, “it looks shit, but I don’t think it’d be our tree if it didn’t.

“Merry shitmas then, babe!” he said with a dopey smile. “Drink?”

A few moments later, the two of them sat on the floor of the living room – her with her legs crossed, Billy with his stretched out in front of him – as they pawed through a battered cardboard box of old Christmas decorations. Threadbare tinsel that had seen better days, chipped baubles and string lights that all seemed to have bulbs missing made up the selection of items that they would use to decorate the monstrosity that crowded their living room.

“I’m sorry for getting stroppy with you earlier,” she said softly, before taking a sip of red wine and savouring the subtle burn at the back of her throat.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, as his thumbs rubbed idly at the condensation on his bottle of Stella. His eyes lifted to meet hers, taking on a playful look as he continued, “you’ll have to watch yourself though, or you’ll end up on the naughty list.”

“Oh yeah?” she giggled. “You gonna spank me?”

Billy’s cheeks flushed pink and he lowered his gaze, taking a sudden keen interest in the label on his beer bottle, but she wasn’t going to let him retreat so easily.

“Oi,” she chided, setting her wine glass and moving to straddle his lap. She draped a length of purple tinsel around the back of his neck, tugging him closer. “Don’t go shy on me.”

“I’m not,” he said, putting his beer bottle down on the carpet and bringing his hands to rest upon her hips, “I just feel stupid talking like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, Billy,” she urged, “talk dirty to me. I want you to, I like it.”

His face twisted with incredulity, his brow furrowing as he scoffed. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well,” she began, her voice turning sultry, “you could tell me what you want to do to me, or what you want me to do to you, how I make you feel. There aren’t rules, just say what comes naturally.”

“You go first then,” he insisted, giving her hips a gentle squeeze.

She nodded, biting her lip as she considered what to say. “You make me so wet,” she purred, grinding slightly in his lap to emphasise her point.

Billy’s lips parted, a heavy exhale escaping him. His eyes drifted downwards in momentary hesitation, before lifting back to her face. “I wanna taste it,” he whispered.

“Yeah? You wanna make me feel good with your mouth?” she asked, continuing the lazy roll of her hips against his, using her grip on the tinsel around his neck as leverage. Her core throbbed at the feeling of his growing hardness rubbing against her through the fabric of his jogging bottoms.

“Mmm, yeah,” he breathed, growing more confident, gripping her firmly as he guided her movements. “Wanna tear those knickers off you and have you sit on my face, make you come.”

“Fucking hell, Billy,” she almost moaned, the filthiness of his words taking her by surprise, causing the aching desire within her to grow stronger. “Love how your tongue feels on my clit, you always make me come so hard.”

He groaned, his face pressing into the crook of her neck as he raised a hand to palm roughly at her breast through her t-shirt, making her gasp.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” she urged, pulling back slightly, forcing him to look at her once more.

“I…I want you to ride me,” he stuttered breathlessly as his hand snaked from her breast back to her hip, urging her movements against his clothed erection.

“You want to be inside of me?” she smiled coyly, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he said, halting his movements.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, cocking her head.

“I’m done dirty talking,” he told her, sliding the tinsel from around his neck and dropping it onto the carpet.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he replied, sliding his hands to her rear and giving it a firm squeeze. “Bed. Now.”

Read on AO3

More Billy Washington fics

[umbrellajam]

Have any Dick & Tim fic recs for us poor unfortunate souls? We’re hungry for brotherisms

I feel you anon, there can never be too many Dick & Tim brotherism fics! 😊 I had a great time wading through my bookmarks to pull some recs (and inevitably lose a bunch of time re-reading things lol), so thanks for the ask!

so I've organized the below first by general time period, then categories like Canon Divergence and Alternate Universe. I've also limited myself to fics that have a clear focus on Dick & Tim as the primary relationship (although some of them include other characters or ensembles).

Hope that you find something new that you enjoy, friend!!

A Thousand Ninjas, by @silverwhittlingknife (100k WIP series) - Silver's fantastic epic that covers the span of Dick and Tim's relationship in preboot canon. Some of the individual works are WIP, others are complete - just read them all, okay, you will not regret

Dick and Tim, through the years: from Lonely Place of Dying, through Tim's Robin years, and beyond Red Robin. "Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act - 'specially for you." (B 441) "Who the hell are you?" (NT 60) "Dick Grayson is my brother. My best friend." (R 181) "You're my equal. My closest ally." (RR 1) "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." (TT/O Secret Files) "You're my brother. You'll always be there for me." (RR 12) "And then I think... no... it's for Tim. For him, a thousand ninjas is just the start of what I would do." (N 138)

EARLY ROBIN TIM

Brothers Have the Worst Timing, by @havendance (1k) - god I love Tim just popping up randomly to be the most annoying little brother ever, and frankly there's no better time for it than during Nightwing/Huntress, when he can bother both Dick and Helena at once.

Tim crashes Dick and Helena’s ill-advised one-night stand; this is awkward for everyone involved.

A Long Fall with a Sudden Stop, by @eggmacguffin (5.1k) - Interesting and appropriately awful take on fear toxin, with a relatively young Robin!Tim having to manage an incapacitated Dick. Also good Dick & Bruce content.

Dick Grayson was not and never has been afraid of heights. However, there were moments, moments in the wake of tragedy, in the midst of doubt, where he was deathly afraid of falling. — Dick Grayson. Fear Toxin.

Little Brothers and Stupid Ideas, by lazarusfell / @gretahayes (2k) - Tim breaking into Dick's apartment to be a neurotic little dork at him, my beloved.

Dick doesn't think he'll ever get used to his little brother's idiosyncrasies. It's like whenever he thinks the kid can't get any weirder, he decides to just blow Dick out of the water with some new abnormality. It's endearing.

LATE ROBIN TIM

lifeline, by me c: (~700) - just a ficlet, but I'm still fond of it, so. set nebulously post-Infinite Crisis, after both brothers' Really Bad Year.

At a low moment, Dick thinks he needs to catch Tim, and he just - can't. Tim catches him instead.

a soft place to land, by unchosenone / @bitimdrake (3k) - set during the OYL cruise around the world; gorgeous brotherly feels and support and absolutely adopted as personal canon.

Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.” Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script.

ribbons just beyond the eye, by silverwhittlingknife (5.9k) - you know how Dick and Tim had their island adventure in NW #143, and afterward they had to swim out several miles to where they parked the Batsub because the remote stopped working, and Dick talked about making a pit stop in Palermo to visit a "great little Italian restaurant that serves a great ciambellone for dessert"? Well, this is what happens when they do, and it's lovely.

Two weeks after their fight over the Lazarus Pits, Dick and Tim go on a trip, and Dick confronts some old memories.

RED ROBIN / BATMAN REBORN (Dick!Bats) ERA

Brothers, by KelpieCodyne (8.5k) - a refreshing and measured look at the divisive events of Red Robin, from Dick’s perspective. bashes no one, hurray!

Bruce is dead, Dick is Batman, and his brother is floundering. In a desperate attempt to save Tim from himself, Dick tries some tough love. It does not go the way he hopes. Or - Red Robin's 'BruceQuest' through the eyes of Dick Grayson.

We've Taken Different Paths, Traveled Different Roads, by Sohotthateveryonedied (2.3k) - brothers 🥺 even in the middle of their Brucequest fight, Tim can show up out of nowhere for a middle-of-the-night pajama party and heartfelt talk.

Dick is suddenly very awake. He bolts upright, staring at the dimly lit figure. “Tim?” “Hi, Dick,” Tim whispers. He isn’t in uniform for once, instead wearing a pair of sweats and a shirt that Dick recognizes as one of Bruce’s. Dick was wondering where that went. “Jesus, kid,” Dick exhales, an uncertain mixture of disbelief and bafflement. “What are you doing here?” Tim and Dick are still in a fight of sorts, or are they? Have they made up yet, or is the terrain still cracked? Dick wants so badly to ask, but just having Tim in the same room as him is already more than Dick could have hoped he’d get.

a conversation at 4:30am, by xscintillate / @scintillyyy (4.6k) - Dick having a nightmare that Tim is dead and checking all of his regular napping spots with increasing paranoia to prove that he's alive, my beloved. such a great look at the brothers, suffused with all of the love they still share post-Brucequest.

dick & tim, post RR#12 because sometimes having a conversation might end up going nowhere, especially if it's one you're not ready for, but it's enough for now

the best of both of us, by @ashynarr (7k) - a lovely pair of conversations between Tim and Dick, working through their conflict in RR and reconnecting after everything.

They used to have a routine, involving shitty take-out, shitty movies, and a bit of shit-talking. Dick wants to restart it, after everything. Tim's not sure if it's that easy. Or: After Harkness' arrest, Dick and Tim have a heart-to-heart. It helps, a little.

there's an endless road to rediscover, by @zahri-melitor (1.2k) - post-RR fic where Dick and Tim skip right to affectionate violence as a gesture of reconciliation, which is so delightfully in-character, tbh.

Sometimes the only way to show that you've moved on and forgiven each other is to take a flying tackle from the ceiling. Dick and Tim know each other's demonstrations of affection. Damian doesn't.

When it Rains, by vellaphoria (5.8k) - an exploration of Tim and Dick's (most recent) experiences with sexual assault, so warnings for past rape. really excellent.

After Cass and Tim return from Paris, something seems... wrong. Dick tries to find out what it is.

nightwing and red robin hit the town (or do they?) by xscintillate / scintillyyy (7.2k) - hilarious reversal of the "Tim is sad Dick never has time to hang out with him because Eldest Daughter Syndrome" trope.

Dick just wants to hang out with Tim on patrol, like old times. It's a shame that everyone else seems to have the same idea. It's fine. Dick'll get him next time.

POST-FLASHPOINT / MODERN ERA

so won't you stay, won't you stay (with me?), by dizarys / @dizaryswrites (1.4k) - beware the ANGST, this one really stomped on my heart 😭 but it's lovely

Dick seized his hands, holding tight. A long moment of silence passed. Tim kept time with Dick’s breathing as it steadily returned to an even pattern. "I'm proud of you for asking for help." His big brother whispered. "But I haven't." "I dunno, TimTam. Breaking into my apartment seems like a cry for help." Tim's having a hard night. So where else does he go but to his big brother's apartment? Whumptober Day 12

go past where our feet could touch, by redboard (Ink) / @upswings (1.5k) - this is such a lovely fic about the brothers having feelings about their long-gone mothers, and Dick seeing himself in Tim and processing things in his own life by being there for him (without sharing his own issues, at least that we see, lol). perfect characterization.

Today Tim was calmer, almost cheerful – as if it was any other Saturday afternoon. But it had also not escaped Dick's notice that Tim had gone on a universe-hopping trip to rescue Bruce, and one of the first things he'd done upon returning was, apparently, unbox a lot of photos of his dead parents. "How was the multiverse?" Dick asked.

WE'RE NOT DEAD (WE WALK)., by orpheusaki / @damianbugs (4.9k) - fantastic whumptober fic. the boys go through it, by god.

Dick is overwhelmed for a moment, filled with clarity and inexplicable confusion as he blinks around him bleary-eyed. There's the familiar itching covering his skin, tiny grains of dark sand invading the cuts that have torn through his suit from the crash. He coughs, throat dry and closing with every gasp of harsh air. The desert is as unforgivable as the last time he was here, an empty expanse of dunes that might just be a trick of the heavy sun against the back of his neck. Dick pushes the panic away behind his eyelids, savoring the darkness before opening his eyes again. Immediately, he sees Tim. Unconscious, hunched over, covered in blood and sand Tim. (Dick and Tim get stranded in the desert, Dick is always moving forward.)

CANON DIVERGENCE

long distance, by unchosenone / bitimdrake (1.7k) - A Red Robin era AU where Bruce is actually dead.

Six months—months—radio silence, and Tim is calling him. Dick doesn’t even know where Tim is. He scrambles for the phone.

Holding the Line, by Birdchild / @birdchildsnest (6.6k) - part 2 of the series and the first part is just as good, but more focused on the Dick&Tim&Damian relationship as a whole. In this, Dick is plagued with nightmares about the people he loves falling, and struggles through the resultant insomnia.

"Dick was used to anxiety dreams, even (or especially) ones about falling and failing to catch people. They weren’t pleasant, but he understood that they were his brain’s way of working through buried fears. The garbage disposal of his subconscious. But these dreams were more like the hyper-vivid nightmares and thrashing night terrors he’d had after his parents’ deaths. And they were constant. Every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t just feel rattled when he woke up; he felt flayed open."   (This will make more sense if you've read "Redrawing the Lines," but it takes place before "Season of Darkness, Season of Light," so you don't need to have read that.)

now the little red lighthouse knew that it was needed, by xscintillate / scintillyyy (22k) - beloved Tim never becomes Robin but shows up in Dick's life and becomes his brother anyway fic of my HEART

"Kid," he says, frustration bleeding through, "I don't know who you think I am, but I can promise you, I don't know anything about any companies. You might want to call the police about this, instead." "No, that's just it," the kid says, "I can't trust the police. I think they're in on it. I think I might get arrested soon. I need—I think I need Nightwing's help." in an alternate universe where jason survives ethiopia--dick and tim still find each other.

this also has a WIP sequel, so the little red lighthouse tried to shine once more, which is equally excellent

well, what would you do if you went back in time?, by xscintillate / scintillyyy (3.5k) - yeah, in retrospect Tim's smug know-it-all tendencies would become exponentially worse if he traveled back in time and actually knew everything, lol. of course he takes the opportunity to be a Pest to both Dick and Bruce c:

tim goes back in time, and prevents certain things--but still makes his appointment at the circus with dick and is kind of a menace (aka: snippets from an au where tim goes back in time and makes it so he doesn't become robin...but he's still just having fun going around and preventing everything he can think of regardless and making sure to bother dick)

the time you won your town the race, by silverwhittlingknife (4.4k) - technically WIP, but absolutely works as a (DEVASTATING) oneshot. It's been well over a year and I still have not recovered tbh.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

the picture frames have changed and so has your name, by zahri-melitor (24k) - a fix-it it fic for Grant Morrison's 2009 Batman and Robin comic run, which infamously has Dick more-or-less forget that he's supposed to have a close relationship with this alleged "Tim Drake" guy. (Little brother who?)

So, in this fic, Dick literally forgets. Tim notices, and investigates. Also wonderfully highlights Tim's relationships with Helena, Barbara, and the Birds of Prey, and sometimes with Damian.

There’s something wrong with Dick. Tim thought everything was getting back to normal. Bruce was alive and back in their timeline, the Birds of Prey were once again operating out of Gotham, Dick had the city well under control as Batman and even Damian had been less obnoxious than usual. And then during a firefight at a warehouse by the docks, Tim was almost hit by a flying boomerang. And Dick never noticed. When something is wrong with your big brother, who else do you turn to but your big sisters?

Dizzy Edges, by Jojo_Squires / @jojosquires (156k WIP)

A Tim-time-travels-and-interferes-to-make-his-family's-lives-better fic which includes the whole Batfam, but is definitely centered on Dick&Tim and the weird itching dissatisfaction of their missing close relationship from the original timeline - which neither of them can even remember that they're supposed to have.

I leap on my email notifs and stuff new chapters in my mouth as soon as they come out.

Tim Drake didn't quite know what he was agreeing to four years ago, but he tried to make the best of it! Using notes from his past (future?) self, he (somewhat messily) tried to help everyone his other self cared for. Now, it's four years later and he can mostly ignore the second set of memories lying in the back of his brain. It'd be much easier if Dick Grayson would just leave him alone. If Tim believed in destiny he might actually think that the universe cared about what was lost. Dick Grayson has spent the last year feeling like he's veered off course. Something keeps itching at the back of his brain. He's missed some clue. Helena Bertinelli's promised to help him crack down on human trafficking, but Dick thinks her foster kid might actually be more help in that department.

First Priority, by avaya29 / @avayarising (6.8k) - okay so Jason does feature prominently in this one but also he's a hilarious outside observer to Dick&Tim's shenanigans. Also, GLUE TRAP.

As the door opened Tim quickly disabled another three separate electronic sensors in the doorjamb by swiping them with a device that looked a bit like a thumb drive. “Walk where I walk,” he said. He took a big step over the doormat, eyed the floor carefully, then took a careful skipped sidestep to another mat against the right-hand wall, where he removed his shoes. “What the hell?” whispered Jason, still standing in the open doorway. Tim pointed up. There was a net rigged up on the ceiling. “Pressure pads under the carpet.” “I repeat, what the hell? After Tim completely derails Jason's beatdown attempt by asking him for a hug, Jason's first priority is to get this touch-starved kid more cuddles. Tim's first priority is to avoid DIck's traps. Jason learns a lot about his brothers and what happened while he was away, and something about himself too.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Patchwork Siblings, by Raberba_girl (40k) - fluff and whump and we also get both Talon!Dick and regular!Dick being big brothers, which is delightful.

Years ago, young Dick Grayson was taken by the Court of Owls and made into a Talon. When Talon is flung into an alternate universe where Dick Grayson was taken in by Bruce Wayne instead, he latches onto the first familiar person he sees. (Or: Little Bat-stalker Tim Drake is understandably alarmed to find that an undead assassin has imprinted on him.)

5+1 Night's at Freddy's, by cowboymater (6.6k WIP) - okay so this is only the first chapter of an expected six, but it's already a wildly interesting and entertaining scenario with great characterization. my kingdom for 5000 AUs where young Dick and Tim are thrown together into Trials and Tribulations out of nowhere for their brotherly meet-cute.

The 5 nights Tim spent at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza with Robin and the 1 he spent with Batman, OR, this would be the coolest thing that happened to him ever if the animatronics were trying to kill them less, OR, the "Batman meets Freddy Fazbear" fic I found hidden under a loose floorboard in Tim Drake's childhood bedroom.

darling boy, by deitybird (335k) - Fuzzy and funny de-aged!Tim shenanigans, with Dick as his primary caretaker but the whole Batfam getting involved. Author pulls what plot, character, and relationship points they like and want to explore from varied canon (post-Crisis, New 52, Rebirth, Infinite Frontier, Batman the Animated Series, etc.) and fanon to build out that 335k of story, and it's a very fun time. Toddler Tim is such a gremlin ♥

His comm crackles to life. “RR’s suit is in a pile on the floor,” Jason says, voice grim. “But no sign of him. Something bad must’ve happened if he ditched it all.” “I wouldn’t say it’s bad, per se,” Dick replies, gazing down at the kid nestled against his chest. Now that he’s looking properly, he can see hints of his little brother in those small features. “But at least I can confidently say that he’s not dead.” Or: Tim gets de-aged to four. Dick takes care of him.

Under a Parent’s Wing, by IzzyMRDB. (39k) - YMMV on whether this will be your cup of tea, as this is an AU where Dick comes into a parental rather than brotherly role for a younger, AU!Tim, who is also autistic and abused. But it’s also delightful, heartfelt, and a thoughtful exploration of the complicated, difficult situation as given.

Also I would, no lie, read hundreds of fics based on the premise of kid!Tim discovering that THE Dick Grayson (aka THE ORIGINAL ROBIN) is coaching gymnastics classes and using his sneaky determined ways to finagle himself into said classes.

When Tim found out that Dick Grayson was a gymnastics instructor in Bludhaven, he quickly signed up. After all, learning gymnastics from The Nightwing himself is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dick Grayson is more concerned at the obvious signs of child abuse he sees in one of his students. AKA Dick Grayson, as a childcare worker, is a mandated reporter who knows how to recognize child abuse in his students. Tim Drake, after a lifetime of fear and confusion, learns to trust adults.

[gemmafuckingscout]

severance yuri/femslash fanfic recs

i've been seeing other severance fic rec posts so i'm posting my own! omitting tags to save space so please make sure to check them before reading! fics with an asterisk are ao3 locked <3

The Stone by @whoreiorcats, Gemma/Helena, 19.9k words (in progress), Explicit

Gemma has escaped, but Mark is left behind. She finds herself inexplicably drawn to the very woman who has kept them both prisoner. Lots of food is eaten.

Knife At My Throat by @gemmafuckingscout (me!), Gemma/Helena, 10k words (in progress), Explicit

A year after the season 2 finale, Helena and Gemma are still picking up the pieces of their life. But when Gemma unknowingly matches with Helena on a dating app, things couldn’t possibly end well.

buzzcut season* by @ohwhatagloomyshow, Gemma/Helena, 4.9k words (complete), Explicit

The first thing she does exclusively for herself is buy a pair of clippers with Ricken’s credit card and give herself a buzz cut. Helly R. pushed Mark S. out of the hallway, into the waiting arms of his wife. What does that mean for Gemma? Post S2E10, Gemma tries to come to terms with her new freedom and the family that fell apart without her. That also means coming to terms with Helena Eagan.

i never sought to love you* by @ohwhatagloomyshow, Gemma/Helena, 4.6k words (in progress), Mature

Pre-canon, the fall before Gemma's disappearance - a year after their last IVF treatment, Gemma decides to pop into a local perinatal loss support group on a whim. There she meets Helly Riggs, a beautiful and equally awkward outsider who listens to her and sees her in a way Mark hasn't in a long time. Helena's motive for meeting Gemma becomes complicated as she wrestles with her duty to Lumon and her father vs. her first sincerely intimate relationship.

A Phoenix & Doves by @spareham, Gemma/Devon, 17k words (complete), Explicit

Gemma pushed her hands down over her own hips where the fabric hugged them, thanks to the clips at her back, hidden from her view. She'd be lying if she said she'd never dreamed of becoming a bride… just never this kind. So white. Red-less. Her fingers trailed over her stomach, picking at the border, the hem. She couldn’t ride a horse in this. She chuckled to herself, instead. [uh oh! pre-lumon gemdev o clock!]

no grave can hold my body down (i’ll crawl home to her) by fivemillioneyes, Gemma/Devon, 2.2k words (complete), Explicit

This is the only control Devon can give her.

and when you think about me by @sapphichaze, Gemma/Devon, 3.6k words (complete), Teen

“What would you teach?” Gemma asked as she sat down on a chair, gesturing for Devon to sit next to her. She seemed genuinely interested. “Probably, like, how to survive a zombie apocalypse.” Devon sat down. “You know, useful stuff.” “Now who’s the nerd?” Gemma said with a small grin on her lips. Devon shoved their shoulders together, feeling the heat even through the fabric.

Control by @spareham, Gemma/Devon, 1k words (complete), Explicit

Gemma's regaining control, Devon's helping.

it’s april (yes,april;my darling) by @ichabodcranemills, Gemma/Devon, 1.2kwords (complete), General

Gemma and Devon and the perfect spring day

Not on Your Own by @sapphichaze, Ms. Casey/Helly, 1.3k words (complete), General

“You look like you need some help, so, maybe, uh,” Helly squeezes her eyes together, regretting the words almost as soon as they leave her mouth, “I could do a wellness session on you, instead?”

try to remember, try to forget (but you'll never be the same) by Shadowcrawler, Ms. Casey/Helly, 1.6k words (complete), Explicit

Ms. Casey offers to help Helly R. out with something. prompt: Helly R./Ms. Casey, first time, cunnilingus

The Fifth Temper by virtuousweisz, Cobel/Hellyna, Ms. Casey/Helly, 68k words (in progress), Explicit

Harmony Cobel takes an interest in Helly R., whose outie is more than willing to abuse her power in every conceivable way to tame these erratic and debauched behaviours.

Asal by @spareham, Devon/Reghabi, 12.7k words (complete), Explicit

the second s2e6 ends, this lil fic begins. fluffy canon divergence

Cobel/Natalie by @machrealgirl, Cobel/Natalie, 2.8k words (complete), Explicit

Cobel x Natalie hate sex with a side of character study.